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f3 9^ 

%ake lEnolfeb Classfces?/ 

Under the editorial supervision of LINDSAY TODD DAMON, A. B., 
Instructor in English in the University of Chicago. 



♦SHAKSPERE — Macbeth, 25c. 

John Henry Bovnton, Ph. D., Syracuse University. 
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*MILTON — Paradise Lost, Books I and II, . . • . 25c. 

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tCOOPER — Last of the Mohicans 40c. 

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CARLYLE — Essay on Burns 25c. 

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SCOTT — Lay of the Last Minstrel, 25c. 

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Mary R. Willard, High School, Jamestown, N. Y. 

SCOTT— Lady of the Lake, 25c. 

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Mary R. Willard. 

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*For Study and Practice. \ College Entrance Requirements im 
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SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

378-388 Wabash Avenue .... Chicago 



tTbe UaKe iSnalidb Claaaica 



SDITED BY 



LINDSAY TODD DAMON, A.B. 

Instructor in English in The University of Chicago 



^be Xaftc jenglleb Classics 



MAEMION 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION 

BY 

WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY, A.M. 

INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH, THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO 



AND A GLOSSARY AND NOTES 

BY 

^, MARY R. WILLARD 

INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH, HIGH SCHOOL, JAMESTOWN, N. Y, 



CHICAGO 

SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 

1899 







42793 

Copyright 1899 
By SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 

TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 



.^. 



Of Cot 



4-^*%^ 



PRESS OF 

THE HENRY O. SHEPARD CO., 

CHICAGO. 



n 



*. ^JT> ^ 73 %j * 



CONTENTS 

FAGB 

Map 8 

Introduction 

I. Life of Scott 9 

II. Scott's Place in the Romantic Movement . 39 

III. Marmion 46 

Text .59 

Notes 293 

Glossary 334 



L LIFE OF SCOTT 



Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 
1771, of an ancient Scotch clan numbering in its 
time many a hard rider and good fighter, and 
more than one of these petty chieftains, half -shep- 
herd and half -robber, who made good the winter 
inroads into their stock of beeves by spring forays 
and cattle drives across the English Border. 
Scott's great-grandfather was the famous ^^Beardie" 
of Harden, so called because after the exile of the 
Stuart sovereigns he swore never to cut his beard 
until they were reinstated; and several degrees 
farther back he could point to a still more famous 
figure, '^Auld Wat of Harden," who with his fair 
dame, the Flower of Yarrow, is mentioned in the 
Lay of the Last Minstrel, The first member of 
the clan to abandon country life and take up a 
sedentary profession, was Scott's father, who 
settled in Edinburgh as Writer to the Signet, a 
position corresponding in Scotland to that of 
attorney or solicitor in England. The character of 
this father, stern, scrupulous, Calvinistic, with a 
high sense of ceremonial dignity and a punctilious 
regard for the honorable conventions of life, united 
with the wilder ancestral strain to make Scott what 

9 



10 INTRODUCTION 

he was. From **Auld Wat" and '^Beardie" came his 

high spirit, his rugged manliness, his chivalric 
ideals ; from the Writer to the Signet came that 
power of methodical labor which made him a giant 
among the literary workers of his day, and that 
delicate sense of responsibility which gave his 
private life its remarkable sweetness and beauty. 

At the age of eighteen months, Scott was seized 
with a teething fever which settled in his right leg 
and retarded its growth to such an extent that he 
was slightly lame for the rest of his life. Possibly 
this affliction was a blessing in disguise, since it is 
not improbable that Scott's love of active adventure 
would have led him into the army or the navy, if 
he had not been deterred by a bodily impediment ; 
in which case English history might have been a 
gainer, but English literature would certainly have 
been immeasurably a loser. In spite of his lameness, 
the child grew strong enough to be sent on a long 
visit to his grandfather's farm at Sandyknowe; 
and here, lying among the sheep on the windy 
downs, playing about the romantic ruins of Smail- 
holm Tower, ^ scampering through the heather on 
a tiny Shetland pony, or listening to stories of the 
thrilling past told by the old women of the farm, 
he drank in sensations which strengthened both 
the hardiness and the romanticism of his nature. 
A story is told of his being found in the fields 
during a thunder storm, clapping his hands at each 

^See Scott's ballad The Eve of St John. 



LIFE OF SCOTT 11 

flash of lightning, and shouting '' Bonny f Bonny!" 
— a bit of infantile intrepidity which makes more 
acceptable a story of another sort illustrative of his 
mental precocity. A lady entering his mother's 
room, found him reading aloud a description of a 
shipwreck, accompanying the words with excited 
comments and gestures. ''There's the mast 
gone," he cried, '* crash it goes; they will all 
perish!" The lady entered into his agitation with 
tact, and on her departure, he told his mother 
that he liked their visitor, because ''she was a 
virtuoso, like himself." To her amused inquiry 
as to what a virtuoso might be, he replied: 
"Don't ye know? why, 'tis one who wishes to and 
will know everything." 

As a boy at school in Edinburgh and in Kelso, 
and afterwards as a student at the University and 
apprentice in his father's law office, Scott took his 
own way to become a "virtuoso''; a rather queer 
way it must sometimes have seemed to his good 
preceptors. He refused point-blank to learn 
Greek, and cared little for Latin. His scholarship 
was so erratic that he glanced meteor -like from 
the head to the foot of his classes and back again, 
according as luck gave or withheld the question to 
which his highly selective memory had retained the 
answer. But outside of school hours he was 
intensely at work to "know everything," so far as 
"everything" came within the bounds of his 
special tastes. Before he was ten years old he had 



12 INTRODUCTION 

begun to collect chap-books and ballads. As he 
grew older he read omnivorously in romance and 
history ; at school he learned French for the sole 
purpose of knowing at first hand the fascinating 
cycles of old French romance; a little later he 
mastered Italian in order to read Dante and 
Ariosto, and to his schoolmaster's indignation 
stoutly championed the claim of the latter poet to 
superiority over Homer ; a little later he acquired 
Spanish and read Don Quixote in the original. 
With such efforts, however, considerable as they 
were for a boy who passionately loved a *'bicker" 
in the streets, and who was famed among his 
comrades for bravery in climbing the perilous 
* 'kittle nine stanes" on Castle Eock, — ^he was not 
content. Nothing more conclusively shows the 
genuineness of Scott's romantic feeling than his 
willingness to undergo severe mental drudgery in 
pursuit of knowledge concerning the old storied 
days which had enthralled his imagination. It was 
no moonshine sentimentality which kept him hour 
after hour and day after day in the Advocate's 
Library, poring over musty manuscripts, decipher- 
ing heraldic devices, tracing genealogies, and 
unraveling obscure points of Scottish history. By 
the time he was twenty -one he had made himself, 
almost unconsciously, an expert paleographer and 
antiquarian, whose assistance was sought by pro- 
fessional workers in those branches of knowledge. 
Carlyle has charged against Scott that he poured 



LIFE OF SCOTT 13 

out his vast floods of poetry and romance without 
preparation or forethought; that his production 
was always impromptu, and rooted in no suflBcient 
past of acquisition. The charge cannot stand. 
From his earliest boyhood until his thirtieth year, 
when he began his brilliant career as poet and 
novelist, his life was one long preparation, — very 
individual and erratic preparation, perhaps, but 
none the less earnest and fruitful. 

In 1792, Scott, then twenty-one years old, was 
admitted a member of the faculty of advocates of 
Edinburgh. During the five years which elapsed 
between this date and his marriage, his life was full 
to overflowing of fun and adventure, rich with genial 
companionship, and with experience of human 
nature in all its wild and tame varieties. Ostensibly 
he was a student of law, and he did, indeed, devote 
some serious attention to the mastery of his pro- 
fession. But the dry formalities of legal life his 
keen humor would not allow him to take quite 
seriously. On the day when he was called to the 
bar, while waiting his turn among the other young 
advocates, he turned to his friend, William Clark, 
who had been called with him, and whispered, 
mimicking the Highland lasses who used to stand at 
the Cross of Edinburgh to be hired for the 
harvest: ''We've stood here an hour by the Tron, 
hinny, and deil a ane has speered^ our price." 
Though Scott never made a legal reputation, either 

* Asked. 



14 INTRODUCTION 

as pleader at the bar or as an authority upon legal 
history and principles, it cannot be doubted that 
his experience in the Edinburgh courts was of 
immense benefit to him. In the first place, his 
study of the Scotch statutes, statutes which had 
taken form very gradually under the pressure of 
changing national conditions, gave him an insight 
into the politics and society of the past not other- 
wise to have been obtained. Of still more value, 
perhaps, was the association with his young com- 
panions in the profession, and daily contact 
with the racy personalities which traditionally 
haunt all courts of law, and particularly Scotch 
courts of law: the first association kept him from 
the affectation and sentimentality which is the 
bane of the youthful romanticist ; and the second 
enriched his memory with many an odd figure after- 
ward to take its place, clothed in the colors of a 
great dramatic imagination, upon the stage of his 
stories. 

Added to these experiences, there were others 
equally calculated to enlarge his conception of 
human nature. Xot the least among these he found 
in the brilliant literary and artistic society of 
Edinburgh, to which his mother's social position 
gave him entrance. Here, when only a lad, he 
met Robert Burns, then the pet and idol of 
the fashionable coteries of the capital. Here he 
heard Henry Mackenzie deliver a lecture on Ger- 
man literature which turned his attention to the 



LIFE OF SCOTT 15 

romantic poetry of Germany and led directly to his 
first attempts at ballad-writing. But much more 
vital than any or all of these influences, were those 
endless walking-tours which alone or in company 
with a boon companion he took over the neighbor- 
ing country-side, — care-free, roystering expeditions, 
which he afterwards immortalized as Dandie 
Dinmont's ''Liddesdale raids" in Guy Manner- 
ing. Thirty miles across country as the crow flies, 
vrith no objective point and no errand, a village 
inn or a shepherd's hut at night, with a crone to 
sing them an old ballad over the fire, or a group 
of hardy dalesmen to welcome them with stories 
and carousal, — these were blithe adventurous days 
such as could not fail to ripen Scott's already 
ardent nature, and store his memory with genial 
knowledge. The account of Dandie Dinmont 
given by Mr. Shortreed may be taken as a picture, 
only too true in some of its touches, of Scott in 
these youthful escapades: *'Eh me, . . sic an 
endless fund of humour and drollery as he had 
then wi' him. Never ten yards but we were either 
laughing or roaring and singing. Wherever we 
stopped how brawHe he suited himsel' to every- 
body! He aye did as the lave did; never made 
himsel' the great man or took ony airs in the com- 
pany. I've seen him in a' moods in these jaunts, 
grave and gay, daft and serious, sober and di-unk 
— (this, however, even in our wildest rambles, was 
but rare) — but drunk or sober, he was aye the 



16 INTRODUCTION 



1 



gentleman. He looked excessively heavy and 
stupid when he was fou, but he was never out o' 
gude humour." After this, we are not surprised 
to hear that Scott's father told him disgustedly 
that he was better fitted to be a fiddling pedlar, a 
**gangrel scrape-gut," than a respectable attorney. 
As a matter of fact, however, behind the mad 
pranks and the occasional excesses there was a very 
serious purpose in all this scouring of the country- 
side. Scott was picking up here and there, from 
the old men and women with whom he hobnobbed, 
antiquarian material of an invaluable kind, bits 
of local history, immemorial traditions and super- 
stitions, and, above all, precious ballads which had 
been handed down for generations among the 
peasantry. These ballads, thus precariously trans- 
mitted, it was Scott's ambition to gather together 
and preserve, and he spared no pains or fatigue to 
come at any scrap of ballad literature of whose 
existence he had an inkling. Meanwhile, he was 
enriching heart and imagination for the work that 
was before him. So that here also, though in the 
hair -brained and heady way of youth, he was 
engaged in his task of preparation. 

Scott has told us that it was his reading of Don 
Quixote which determined him to be an author ; 
but he was first actually excited to composition in 
another way. This was by hearing recited a ballad 
of the German poet Burger, entitled Lenore^ in 
which a skeleton lover carries off his bride to a 



LIFE OF SCOTT 17 

wedding in the land of death. Mr. Hutton 
remarks upon the curiousness of the fact that a 
piece of "raw super naturalism" like this should 
have appealed so strongly to a mind as healthy and 
sane as Scott's. So it was, however. He could 
not rid himself of the fascination of the piece until 
he had translated it, and published it, together 
with another translation from the same author. 
One stanza at least of this first effort of Scott 
sounds a note characteristic of his poetry : 

Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 
Splash ! splash ! along the sea ; 
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, 
The flashing pebbles flee. 

Here we catch the trumpet-like clang and staccato 
tramp of verse which he was soon to use in a way 
to thrill his generation. This tiny pamphlet of 
verse, Scott's earliest publication, appeared in 1796. 
Soon after, he met Monk Lewis, then famous as a 
purveyor to English palates of the crude horrors 
which German romanticism had just ceased to 
revel in. Lewis was engaged in compiling a book 
of supernatural stories and poems under the title 
of Tales of Wonder^ and asked Scott to contribute. 
Scott wrote for this book three long ballads — 
Glenfinlas^ Cadyow Castle^ and The Gray Brother. 
Though tainted with the conventional diction of 
eighteenth century verse, these ballads are not un- 
impressive pieces of work; the second named, 
especially, shows a kind and degree of romantic 



18 INTRODUCTION 

imagination such as his later poetry rather sub- 
stantiated than newly revealed. 

II 

In the following year, 1797, Scott married a Miss 
Charpentier, daughter of a French refugee. She 
was not his first love, that place having been 
usurped by a Miss Stuart Belches, for whom Scott 
had felt perhaps the only deep passion of his life, 
and memory of whom was to come to the surface 
touchingly in his old age. Miss Charpentier, or 
Carpenter, as she was called, with her vivacity and 
quaint foreign speech ''caught his heart on the re- 
bound;" there can be no doubt that, in spite of a 
certain shallowness of character, she made him a 
good wife; and that his affection for her deepened 
steadily to the end. The young couple went to 
live at Lasswade, a village near Edinburgh, on the 
Esk. Scott, in whom the proprietary instinct was 
always very strong, took great pride in the pretty 
little cottage. He made a dining-table for it with 
his own hands, planted saplings in the yard, and 
drew together two willow -trees at the gate into a 
kind of arch, surmounted by a cross made of two 
sticks. "After I had constructed this," he 
says, *' mamma (Mrs. Scott) and I both of us 
thought it so fine that we turned out to see it by 
moonlight, and walked backwards from it to the 
cottage door, in admiration of our magnificence and 
its picturesque effect." It would have been well 



LIFE OF SCOTT 19 

indeed for them both if their pleasures of proprie- 
torship could always have remained so touchingly 
simple. 

Now that he was married, Scott was forced to 
look a little more sharply to his fortunes. He 
applied himself with more determination to the 
law. In 1799 he became deputy-sheriff of Selkirk- 
shire, with a salary of three hundred pounds, which 
placed him at least beyond the reach of want. He 
began to look more and more to literature as a 
means of supplementing his income. His ballads 
in the Tales of Wonder had gained him some 
reputation; this he increased in 1802 by the 
publication, under the title Border Minstrelsy^ of 
the ballads which he had for several years been 
collecting, collating, and richly annotating. 
Meanwhile, he was looking about for a congenial 
subject upon which to try his hand in a larger way 
than he had as yet adventured. Such a subject 
came to him at last in a manner calculated to 
enlist all his enthusiasm in its treatment, for it 
was given him by the Countess of Dalkeith, wife 
of the heir-apparent to the dukedom of Buccleugh. 
The ducal house of Buccleugh stood at the head of 
the clan Scott, and toward its representative the 
poet always held himself in an attitude of feudal 
reverence. The Duke of Buccleugh was his 
''chief," entitled to demand from him both passive 
loyalty and active service; so, at least, Scott loved 
to interpret their relationship, making effective in 



20 INTRODUCTION 

his own case a feudal sentiment which had else- 
where somewhat lapsed. He especially loved to 
think of himself as the bard of his clan, a modern 
representative of those rude poets whom the Scott- 
ish chiefs once kept as a part of their household to 
chant the exploits of the clan. Nothing could 
have pleased his fancy more, therefore, than a 
request on the part of the lady of his chief to treat 
a subject of her assigning, namely, the dark mis- 
chief-making of a dwarf or goblin who had strayed 
from his unearthly master and attached himself as 
page to a human household. The subject fell in 
with the poet's reigning taste for strong super- 
naturalism. Gilpin Horner, the goblin page, 
though he proved in the sequel a difficult character 
to put to poetic uses, was a figure grotesque and 
eerie enough to appeal even to Monk Lewis. At 
first Scott thought of treating the subject in 
ballad-form, but the scope of treatment was 
gradually enlarged by several circumstances. To 
begin with, he chanced upon a copy of Goethe's 
Gotz von BerlicMngen^ and the history of that rob- 
ber baron suggested to him the feasibility of throw- 
ing the same vivid light upon the old Border life of 
his ancestors as Goethe had thrown upon that of the 
Ehine barons. This led him to subordinate the 
part played by the goblin page in the proposed 
story, which was now widened to include elaborate 
pictures of mediseval life and manners, and to lay 
the scene in the castle of Branksome, formerly the 



LIFE OF SCOTT 21 

stronghold of Scott's and the Duke of Bucclengh's 
ancestors. The verse form into which the story- 
was thrown was due to a still more accidental 
circumstance, i. e., Scott's overhearing Sir John 
Stoddard recite a fragment of Coleridge's unpub- 
lished poem Christaiel, The placing of the 
story in the mouth of an old harper fallen upon 
evil days, was a happy afterthought; besides 
making a beautiful framework for the main poem, 
it enabled the author to escape criticism for any 
violent innovations of style, since these could 
always be attributed to the rude and wild school 
of poetry to which the harper was supposed to 
belong. In these ways the Lay of the Last Min- 
strel gradually developed in its present form. 
Upon its publication in 1805, it achieved an 
immediate success. The vividness of its descriptive 
passages, the buoyant rush of its metre, the deep 
romantic glow suffusing all its pages, took by 
storm a public familiar to weariness with the 
decorous abstractions of the eighteenth century 
poets. The first edition, a sumptuous quarto, was 
exhausted in a few weeks; an octavo edition of 
fifteen hundred was sold out within the year ; and 
before 1830, forty-four thousand copies were 
needed to supply the popular demand. Scott 
received in all something under eight hundred 
pounds for the Lay^ a small amount when con- 
trasted with his gains from subsequent poems, but 
a sum so unusual nevertheless that he determined 



22 INTRODUCTION 

forthwitli to devote as much time to literature as 
he could spare from his legal duties ; those he still 
placed foremost, for until near the close of his life 
he clung to his adage that literature was "a good 
staff, but a poor crutch. " 

A year before the publication of the Lay^ Scott 
had removed to the small country seat of Ashestiel, 
in Selkirkshire, seven miles from the nearest town, 
Selkirk, and several miles from any neighbor. In 
the introductions to the various cantos of Marmion 
he has given us a delightful picture of Ashestiel 
and its surroundings, — ^the swift Glenkinnon dash- 
ing through the estate in a deep ravine, on its way 
to join the Tweed; behind the house the rising 
hills beyond which lay the lovely scenery of the 
Yarrow. The eight years (1804-1812) at Ashestiel 
were the serenest, and probably the happiest, of 
Scott's life. Here he wrote his two greatest poems, 
Marmion and the Lady of the Lake, His mornings 
he spent at his desk, always with a faithful hound 
at his feet watching the tireless hand as it threw off 
sheet after sheet of manuscript to make up the 
day's stint. By one o'clock he was, as he said, 
*'his own man, " free to spend the remaining hours 
of light with his children, his horses, and his dogs, 
or to indulge himself in his life-long passion for 
tree-planting. His robust and healthy nature 
made him excessively fond of all out-of-door sports, 
especially riding, in which he was daring to fool- 
hardiness. It is a curious fact, noted by Lockhart, 



LIFE OF SCOTT 23 

that many of Scott's senses were blunt; lie could 
scarcely, for instance, tell one wine from another 
by the taste, and once sat quite unconscious at his 
table while his guests were manifesting extreme 
uneasiness oyer the approach of a too-long-kept 
haunch of venison; but his sight was unusually 
keen, as his hunting exploits proved. His little 
son once explained his father's popularity by saying 
that ^'it was him that commonly saw the hare 
sitting." What with hunting, fishing, salmon- 
spearing by torchlight, gallops over the hills into 
the Yarrow country, planting and transplanting of 
his beloved trees, Scott's life at Ashestiel, during 
the hours when he was ''his own man," was a very 
full and happy one. 

Unfortunately, he had already embarked in an 
enterprise which was destined to overthrow his 
fortunes just when they seemed fairest. While at 
school in Kelso he had become intimate with a 
school fellow named James Ballantyne, and later, 
when Ballantyne set up a small printing house in 
Kelso, he had given him his earliest poems to 
print. After the issue of the Border Minstrelsy^ 
the typographical excellence of which attracted 
attention even in London, he set Ballantyne up in 
business in Edinburgh, secretly entering the firm 
himself as silent partner. The good sale of the 
Lay had given the firm an excellent start; but 
more matter was presently needed to feed the press. 
To supply it, Scott undertook and completed at 



24 INTRODUCTION 

Ashestiel four enormous tasks of editing, — ^the 
complete works of Dryden and of Swift, the 
Somers' Tracts, and the Sadler State Papers. The 
success of these editions, and the subsequent 
enormous sale of Scott's poems and novels, would 
have kept the concern solvent in spite of Bal- 
lantyne's complete incapacity for business, but in 
1809 Scott plunged recklessly into another and 
more serious venture. A dispute with Constable, 
the veteran publisher and bookseller, aggravated 
by the harsh criticism delivered upon Marmion by 
Francis Jeffrey, editor of the Edinburgh Review^ 
Constable's magazine, determined Scott to set up 
in connection with the Ballantyne press a rival 
bookselling concern, and a rival magazine, to be 
called the Quarterly Review, The project was a 
daring one, in view of Constable's great ability 
and resources; to make it foolhardy to madness 
Scott selected to manage the new business a brother 
of James Ballantyne, a dissipated little buffoon, with 
about as much business ability and general calibre 
of character as is connoted by the name which 
Scott coined for him, "Eigdumfunnidos." The 
selection of such a man for such a place betrays 
in Scott's eminently sane and balanced mind a 
curious strain of impracticality, to say the least; 
indeed, we are almost constrained to feel with his 
harsher critics that it betrays something worse than 
defective judgment, — defective character. His 
greatest failing, if failing it can be called, was 



LIFE OF SCOTT 25 

pride. He could not endiire even the mild 
dictations of a competent publisher, as is shown 
by his answer to a letter written by one of them 
proposing some salaried work; he replied curtly 
that he was a ''black Hussar" of literature, and 
not to be put to such tame service. Probably this 
haughty dislike of dictation, this imperious desire 
to patronize rather than be patronized, led him to 
choose inferior men with whom to enter into 
business relations. If so, he paid for the fault so 
dearly that it is hard for a biographer to press the 
issue against him. 

For the present, however, the wind of fortune 
was blowing fair, and all the storm clouds were 
below the horizon. In 1808 Marmion appeared, 
and was greeted with an enthusiasm which made 
the unprecedented reception of the Lay seem luke- 
warm in comparison. Marmion contains nothing 
which was not plainly foreshadowed in the Lay^ 
but the hand of the poet has grown more sure, his 
descriptive effects are less crude and amateurish, 
the narrative proceeds with a steadier march, the 
music has gained in volume and in martial vigor. 
An anecdote is told by Mr. Hutton which will 
serve as a type of a hundred others illustrative of 
the extraordinary hold which this poetry took upon 
the minds of ordinary men. "I have heard," he 
says, "of two old men — complete strangers — ^passing 
each other on a dark London night, when one of 
them happened to be repeating to himself, just as 



26 INTRODUCTION 

Campbell did to the hackney coachmen of the 
North Bridge of Edinburgh, the last lines of the 
account of Flodden Field in Marmion^ 'Charge, 
Chester, charge,' when suddenly a reply came out 
of the darkness, *0n, Stanley, on,' whereupon 
they finished the death of Marmion between them, 
took off their hats to each other, and parted, laugh- 
ing." The Lady of the Lake^ which followed in 
little more than a year, was receiyed with the same 
popular delight, and with even greater respect on 
the part of the critics. Even the formidable Jeff- 
rey, who was supposed to dine off slaughtered au- 
thors as the Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk dined 
off young Englishmen, keyed his voice to unwonted 
praise. The influx of tourists into the Trossachs, 
where the scene of the poem was laid, was so great 
as seriously to embarrass the mail coaches, until at 
last the posting charges had to be raised in order 
to diminish the traflfic. Far away in Spain, at a 
trying moment of the Peninsular campaign. Sir 
Adam Ferguson, posted on a point of ground 
exposed to the enemy's fire, read to his men as 
they lay prostrate on the ground the passage from 
the Lady of the Lahe describing the combat 
between Eoderick Dhu's Highlanders and the 
forces of the Earl of Mar; and 'Hhe listening 
soldiers only interrupted him by a joyous huzza 
when the French shot struck the bank close above 
them." Such tributes — and they were legion — ^to 
the power of his poetry to move adventurous and 



LIFE OF SCOTT 27 

hardy men, must have been intoxicating to Scott ; 
there is small wonder that the success of his 
poems gave him, as he says, ''such a heeze as 
almost lifted him off his feet." 



Ill 

Scott's modesty was not in danger, but so far as 
his prudence was concerned, his success did really 
lift him off his feet. In 1812, still more encour- 
aged thereto by entering upon the emoluments of 
the office of Clerk of Sessions, the duties of which 
he had performed for six years without pay, he 
purchased Abbotsford, an estate on the Tweed, 
adjoining that of the Duke of Buccleugh, his kins- 
man, and near the beautiful ruins of Melrose 
Abbey. Here he began to carry out the dream 
of his life, to found a territorial family which 
should augment the power and fame of his clan. 
Beginning with a modest farm house and a farm of 
a hundred acres, he gradually bought, planted, and 
built, until the farm became a manorial domain 
and the farm house a castle. He had not gone far 
in this work before he began to realize that the 
returns from his poetry would never suffice to meet 
such demands as would thus be made upon his 
purse. Byron's star was in the ascendant, and 
before its baleful magnificence Scott 's milder and 
more genial light visibly paled. He was himself 
the first to declare, with characteristic generc^ity. 



28 INTRODUCTION 

that the younger poet had ''bet"^ him at his own 
craft. As Carlyle says, ''he had held the 
sovereignty for some half -score of years, a compar- 
atively long lease of it, and now the time seemed 
come for dethronement, for abdication. An 
unpleasant business; which, however, he held 
himself ready, as a brave man will, to transact 
with composure and in silence." 

But, as it proved, there was no need for resigna- 
tion. The reign of metrical romance, brilliant but 
brief, was past, or nearly so. But what of prose 
romance, which long ago, in picking out Don 
Quixote from the puzzling Spanish, he '^had 
promised himself he would one day attempt? 
"With some such questioning of the Fates, Scott 
drew from his desk the sheets of a story begun 
seven years before, and abandoned because of the 
success of the Lay of the Last Minstrel. This 
story he now completed, and published as Waverley 
in the spring of 1814, — an event ''memorable in 
the annals of British literature ; in the annals of 
British bookselling thrice and four times memor- 
able." The popularity of the metrical romances 
dwindled to insignificance before the enthusiasm 
with which this prose romance was received. 
A moment before quietly resolved to give up his 
place in the world's eye, and to live the life of an 
obscure country gentleman, Scott found himself 
launched once more on the tide of brave fortunes. 

^ Bested, got the better of. 



LIFE OF SCOTT 39 

The Ballantyne publishing and printing houses 
ceased to totter, and settled themselves on what 
seemed the firmest of foundations. At Abbots- 
ford, buying, planting, and building began on a 
greater scale than had ever been planned in its 
owner's most sanguine moments. 

The history of the next eleven years in Scott's 
life is the history, on the one hand, of the rapidly- 
appearing novels, of a fame gradually spreading 
outward from Great Britain until it covered the 
civilized world, — a fame increased rather than 
diminished by the incognito which the *' author of 
Waverley'^ took great pains to preserve even after 
the secret had become an open one ; on the other 
hand, of the large-hearted, hospitable life at Abbots- 
ford, where, in spite of the importunities of curious 
and ill-bred tourists, bent on getting a glimpse of 
the '* Wizard of the North," and in spite of the 
enormous mass of work, literary and official, which 
Scott took upon himself to perform, the atmos- 
phere of country leisure and merriment was some- 
how miraculously preserved. This life of the 
hearty prosperous country laird was the one toward 
the realization of which all Scott's efforts were 
directed; it is worth while, therefore, to see as 
vividly as may be, what kind of life that was, that 
we may the better understand what kind of man 
he was who cared for it. The following extract 
from Lockhart's Life of Scott giYGs us at least one 
very characteristic aspect of the Abbotsford world: 



30 INTRODUCTION 

'*It was a clear, bright September morning, with 
a sharpness in the air that doubled the animating 
influence of the sunshine ; and all was in readiness 
for a gTand coursing-match on Newark Hill. The 
only guest who had chalked out other sport for 
himself was the staunchest of anglers, Mr. Kose; 
but he, too, was there on his shelty^ armed with 
his salmon-rod and landing-net. . . . This little 
group of Waltonians, bound for Lord Someryille's 
preserve, remained lounging about, to witness the 
start of the main cavalcade. Sir Walter, mounted 
on Sibyl, was marshalling the order of procession 
with a huge hunting-whip; and among a dozen 
frolicsome youths and maidens, who seemed dis- 
posed to laugh at all discipline, appeared, each on 
horseback, each as eager as the youngest sportsman 
in the troop. Sir Humphrey Davy, Dr. WoUaston, 
and the patriarch of Scottish belles-lettres, Henry 
Mackenzie. . . . Laidlaw (the steward of Abbots- 
ford) on a strong-tailed wiry Highlander, yclept 
Hoddin Grey, which carried him nimbly and 
stoutly, although his feet almost touched the 
ground, was the adjutant. But the most pictur- 
esque figure was the illustrious inventor of the 
safety-lamp (Sir Humphrey Davy) ... a brown 
hat with flexible brim, surrounded with line upon 
line of catgut, and innumerable fly-hooks; jack- 
boots worthy of a Dutch smuggler, and a fustian 
surtout dabbled with the blood of salmon, made a 
fine contrast with the smart jacket, white-cord 
breeches, and well-polished jockey-boots of the less 
distinguished cavaliers about him. Dr. WoUaston 
was in black ; and with his noble serene dignity of 
countenance might have passed for a sporting 
archbishop. Mr. Mackenzie, at this time in the 
seventy -sixth year of his age, with a hat turned up 



LIFE OF SCOTT 31 

with green, green spectacles, green jacket, and long 
brown leathern gaiters buttoned upon his nether 
anatomy, wore a dog-whistle round his neck. . . 
Tom Purdie (one of Scott's servants) and his sub- 
alterns had preceded us by a few hours with all the 
grey-hounds that could be collected at Abbotsford, 
Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant Maida had 
remained as his master's orderly, and now 
gambolled about Sibyl Grey, barking for mere joy 
like a spaniel puppy. 

''The order of march had all been settled, when 
Scott's daughter Anne broke from the line, scream- 
ing with laughter, and exclaimed, 'Papa, papa, I 
knew you could never think of going without your 
pet !' Scott looked round, and I rafcher think there 
was a blush as well as a smile upon his face, when 
he perceived a little black pig frisking about his 
pony, evidently a self-elected addition to the 
party of the day. He tried to look stern, and 
cracked his whip at the creature, but was in a 
moment obliged to join in the general cheers. 
Poor piggy soon found a strap round its neck, 
and was dragged into the background; Scott, 
watching the retreat, repeated with mock pathos 
the first verse of an old pastoral song — 

'What will I do gin my hoggie die? 
My joy, my pride, my hoggie! 
My only beast, I had na mae, 
And wow, but I was vogieT 

— ^the cheers were redoubled — and the squadron 
moved on." 

Let us supplement this with one more picture, 

from the same hand, showing Scott in a little more 

intimate light. The passage was written in 1821, 

after Lockhart had married Scott's eldest daughter, 



32 INTRODUCTION 

and gone to spend the summer at Chiefswood, a 

cottage on the Abbotsf ord estate : 

"Vi^e were near enough Abbotsf ord to partake as 
often as we liked of its brilliant and constantly 
varying society; yet could do so without being 
exposed to the worry and exhaustion of spirit which 
the daily reception of new-comers entailed upon 
all the family, except Scott himself. But in 
truth, even he was not always proof against 
the annoyances connected with such a style of 
open house-keeping. . . . When sore beset 
at home in this way, he would every now and 
then discover that he had some very particular 
business to attend to on an outlying part of 
his estate, and craving the indulgence of 
his guests overnight, appear at the cabin in the 
glen before its inhabitants were astir in the morn- 
ing. The clatter of Sibyl Grey's hoofs, the yelp- 
ing of Mustard and Spice, and his own joyous 
shout of reveilUe under our windows, were the 
signal that he had bui'st his toils, and meant for 
that day to 'take his ease in his inn. ' On descend- 
ing, he was found to be seated with all his dogs and 
ours about him, under a spreading ash that over- 
shadowed half the bank between the cottage and 
the brook, pointing the edge of his woodman's 
axe, and listening to Tom Purdie's lecture touch- 
ing the plantation that most needed thinning. 
After breakfast he would take possession of a 
dressing-room upstairs, and write a chapter of 
The Pirate\ and then, having made up and des- 
patched his packet for Mr. Ballantyne, away to 
join Purdie wherever the foresters were at work 
. . . until it was time to rejoin his own party at 
Abbotsford, or the quiet circle of the cottage. 
When his guests were few and friendly, he often 



LIFE OF SCOTT 33 

made them come over and meet him at Chiefswood 
in a body towards evening. . . . He was ready 
with all sorts of devices to supply the wants of a 
narrow establishment; he used to delight par- 
ticularly in sinking the wine in a well under the 
irae ere he went out, and hauling up the basket 
just before dinner was announced, — this primitive 
device being, he said, what he had always practised 
when a young housekeeper, and in his opinion far 
superior in its results to any application of ice; 
and in the same spirit, whenever the weather was 
suflficiently genial, he voted for dining out of doors 
altogether." 

Few events of importance except the successive 

appearances of ''our bulks," as Tom Pur die called 

his master's novels, and an occasional visit to 

London or the continent, intervened to break the 

busy monotony of this Abbotsford life. On one 

of these visits to London, Scott was invited to dine 

with the Prince Eegent, and when the prince 

became King George IV., in 1820, almost the 

first act of his reign was to create Scott a baronet. 

Scott accepted the honor gratefully, as coming, 

he said, "from the original source of all honor." 

There can well be two opinions as to whether this 

least admirable of English kings constituted a very 

prime fountain of honor, judged by democratic 

standards ; but to Scott's mind, such an imputation 

would have been next to sacrilege. The feudal 

bias of his mind, strong to start with, had been 

strengthened by his long sojourn among the visions 

of a feudal past ; the ideals of feudalism were living 



34 INTRODUCTION 

realities to him ; and he accepted knighthood from 
his king's hand in exactly the same spirit which 
determined his attitude of humility towards his 
''chief," the Duke of Buccleugh, and which 
impelled him to exhaust his genius in the effort to 
build up a great family estate. 

There were already signs that the enormous bur- 
den of work under which he seemed to move so 
lightly, was telling on him. The Bride of Lammer- 
moor^ The Legend of Montrose^ and Ivanhoe^ had all 
of them been dictated between screams of pain, 
wrung from his lips by a chronic cramp of the 
stomach. By the time he reached Redgauntlet and 
St, Ronan^s Well^ there began to be heard faint 
murmurings of discontent from his public, hints 
that he was writing too fast, and that the noble wine 
he had poured them for so long was growing at last a 
trifle watery. To add to these causes of uneasiness, 
the commercial ventures in which he was interested 
drifted again into a precarious state. He had him- 
self fallen into the bad habit of forestalling the 
gains from his novels by heavy drafts on his pub- 
lishers, and the example thus set was followed 
faithfully by John Ballantyne. Scott's good humor 
and his partner's bad judgment saddled the concern 
with a lot of unsalable books. In 1818 the affairs 
of the book -selling business had to be closed up, 
Constable taking over the unsalable stock and 
assuming the outstanding liabilities in return for 
copyright privileges covering some of Scott's 



LIFE OF SCOTT 35 

novels. This so burdened the veteran publisher 
that when, in 1825, a large London firm failed, it 
carried him down also — and with him James 
Ballantyne, with whom he had entered into close 
relations. Scott's secret connection with Bal- 
lantyne had continued; accordingly he woke up 
one fine day to find himself worse than beggared, 
being personally liable for one hundred and thirty 
thousand pounds. 

IV 

The years intervening between this calamity and 
Scott's death form one of the saddest and at the 
same time most heroic chapters in the history of 
literature. The fragile health of Lady Scott 
succumbed almost immediately to the crushing 
blow, and she died in a few months. Scott sur- 
rendered Abbotsford to his creditors and took up 
humble lodgings in Edinburgh. Here, with a 
pride and stoical courage as quiet as it was splendid, 
he settled down to fill with the earnings of his pen 
the vast gulf of debt for which he was morally 
scarcely responsible at all. In three years he wrote 
Woodstoch^ three Chronicles of the Canongate^ the 
Fair Maid ofPerth^ Anne of Geierstein^ the first 
series of the Tales of a Grandfather, and a Life of 
Napoleon^ equal to thirteen volumes of novel size, 
besides editing and annotating a complete edition 
of his own works. All these together netted his 
creditors £40,000. Touched by the efforts he was 



36 INTRODUCTION 

making to settle their claims, they now presented 
him with Abbotsford, and thither he returned to 
spend the few years remaining to him. In 1830 
he suffered a first stroke of paralysis ; refusing to 
give up, however, he made one more desperate rally 
to recapture his old power of story -telling. Count 
Robert of Paris and Castle Dangerous were the 
pathetic result; they are not to be taken into 
account in any estimate of his powers, for they are 
manifestly the work of a paralytic patient. The 
gloomy picture is darkened by an incident which 
illustrates strikingly one phase of Scott's character. 

The great Eeform Bill was being discussed 
throughout Scotland, menacing what were really 
abuses, but what Scott, with his intense conserva- 
tism, believed to be sacred and inviolable institu- 
tions. The dying man roused himself to make a 
stand against the abominable bill. In a speech 
which he made at Jedburgh, he was hissed and 
hooted by the crowd, and he left the town with the 
dastardly cry of "Burk Sir Walter !" ringing in his 
ears. 

Nature now intervened to ease the intolerable 
strain. Scott's anxiety concerning his debt grad- 
ually gave way to an hallucination that it had 
all been paid. His friends took advantage of the 
quietude which followed to induce him to make the 
journey to Italy, in the fear that the severe winter 
of Scotland would prove fatal. A ship of His 
Majesty's fleet was put at his disposal, and he set 



LIFE OF SCOTT 37 

sail for Malta. The youtlif ul adventuronsness of 
the man flared up again oddly for a moment, when 
he insisted on being set ashore upon a Yolcanic 
island in the Mediterranean which had appeared 
but a few days before and which sank beneath the 
surface shortly after. The climate of Malta at first 
appeared to benefit him ; but when he heard, one 
day, of the death of Goethe at Weimar, he seemed 
seized with a sudden apprehension of his own end, 
and insisted upon hurrying back through Europe, 
in order that he might look once more on Abbots- 
ford. On the ride from Edinburgh he remained 
for the first two stages entirely unconscious. But 
as the carriage entered the valley of the Gala he 
opened his eyes and murmured the name of 
objects as they passed, *'Gala water, surely, — 
Buckholm, — Torwoodlee. '' When the towers of 
Abbotsford came in view, he was so filled with 
delight that he could scarcely be restrained from 
leaping out. At the gates he greeted faithful 
Laidlaw in a voice strong and hearty as of old : 
*'Why, man, how often I have thought of you!" 
and smiled and wept over the dogs who came rush- 
ing as in bygone times to lick his hand. He died 
a few days later, on the afternoon of a glorious 
autumn day, with all the windows open, so that he 
might catch to the last the whisper of the Tweed 
over its pebbles. 

''And so," says Carlyle, "the curtain falls; and 
the strong Walter Scott is with us no more. A 



38 INTRODUCTION 

possession from him does remain ; widely scattered ; 
yet attainable ; not inconsiderable. It can be said 
of him, when he departed, he took a Man's life 
along with him. No sounder piece of British man- 
hood was put together in that eighteenth century 
of Time. Alas, his fine Scotch face, with its 
shaggy honesty, sagacity and goodness, when we 
saw it latterly on the Edinburgh streets, was all 
worn with care, the joy all fled from it; — ploughed 
deep with labour and sorrow. We shall never 
forget it ; we shall never see it again. Adieu, Sir 
Walter, pride of all Scotchmen, take our proud and 
sad farewell." 



II. SCOTT'S PLACE IN THE ROMANTIC 
MOVEMENT 

In order rightly to appreciate the poetry of 
Scott it is necessary to understand something of 
that remarkable ^'Romantic Movement" which 
took place toward the end of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, and within a space of twenty-five years com- 
pletely changed the face of English literature. Both 
the causes and the effects of this movement were 
much more than merely literary; the ''romantic 
revival'' penetrated every crevice and ramification 
of life in those parts of Europe which it affected ; 
its social, political, and religious results were all 
deeply significant. But we must here confine our- 
selves to such aspects of the revival as showed them- 
selves in English poetry. 

Eighteenth century poetry had been distinguished 
by its polish, its formal correctness, or — ^to use a 
term in much favor with critics of that day — its 
*' elegance." The various and wayward metrical 
effects of the Elizabethan and Jacobean poets, had 
been discarded for a few well-recognized verse 
forms, which themselves in turn had become still 
further limited by the application to them of pre- 
cise rules of structure. Hand in hand with this 
restricting process in metre, had gone a similar 

39 



40 INTRODUCTION 

tendency in diction. The simple, concrete phrases 
of daily speech had given way to stately periphrases ; 
the rich and riotous vocabulary of earlier poetry 
had been replaced by one more decorous, measured, 
and high-sounding. A corresponding process of 
selection and exclusion was applied to the subject 
matter of poetry. Passion, lyric exaltation, delight 
in the concrete life of man and nature, passed out 
of fashion; in their stead came social satire, 
criticism, generalized observation. While the 
classical influence, as it is usually called, was at its 
height, with such men as Dryden and Pope to 
exemplify it, it did a great work; but toward the 
end of the eighth decade of the eighteenth century 
it had visibly run to seed. The feeble Hayley, the 
silly Delia Crusca, the arid Erasmus Darwin, were 
its only exemplars. England was ripe for a literary 
revolution, a return to nature and to passion ; and 
such a revolution was not slow in coming. 

It announced itself first in George Crabbe, who 
turned to paint the life of the poor with patient 
realism; in Burns, who poured out in his songs the 
passion of love, the passion of sorrow, the passion 
of conviviality; in Blake, who tried to reach across 
the horizon of visible fact to mystical heavens of 
more enduring reality. Following close upon these 
men came the four poets destined to accomplish 
the revolution which the early comers had begun. 
They were born within four years of each other, 
Wordsworth in 1770, Scott in 1771, Coleridge in 



THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT 41 

1772, Sonthey in 1774. As we look at these four 
men now, and estimate their worth as poets, we see 
that Southey drops almost out of the account, and 
that Wordsworth and Coleridge stand, so far as the 
highest qualities of poetry go, far above Scott, as, 
indeed, Blake and Burns do also. But the con- 
temporary Judgment upon them was directly the 
reverse; and Scott's poetry exercised an influence 
over his age immeasurably greater than that of 
any of the other three. Let us attempt to dis- 
cover what qualities this poetry possessed which 
gave it its astonishing hold upon the age when it 
was written. In so doing, we may discover 
indirectly some of the reasons why it still retains a 
large portion of its popularity, and perhaps arrive 
at some grounds of judgment by which we may test 
its right thereto. 

One reason why Scott's poetry was immediately 
welcomed, while that of Wordsworth and of 
Coleridge lay neglected, is to be found in the fact 
that in the matter of diction Scott was much less 
revolutionary than they. By nature and education 
he was conservative ; he put the Lay of the Last 
Minstrel into the mouth of a rude harper of the 
North in order to shield himself from the charge 
of "attempting to set up a new school in poetry," 
and he never throughout his life violated the con- 
ventions, literary or social, if he could possibly 
avoid doing so. This bias toward conservatism 
and conventionality shows itself particularly in the 



42 INTRODUCTION 

language of his poems. He was compelled, of 
course, to use much more concrete and vivid terms 
than the eighteenth century poets had used, because 
he was dealing with much more concrete and vivid 
matter; but his language, nevertheless, has a pre- 
vailing stateliness, and at times an artificiality, 
which recommended it to readers tired of the 
inanities of Hayley and Mason, but unwilling to 
accept the startling simplicity and concreteness of 
diction exemplified by the Lake poets at their best. 

Another peculiarity of Scott's poetry which 
made powerfully for its popularity, was its spirited 
metre. People were weary of the heroic couplet, 
and turned eagerly to these hurried verses, that 
went on their way with the sharp tramp of moss- 
troopers, and heated the blood like a drum. The 
metres of Coleridge, subtle, delicate, and poignant, 
had been passed by with indifference, — had not been 
heard perhaps, for lack of ears trained to hear; 
but Scott's metrical effects were such as a child 
could appreciate, and a soldier could carry in his 
head. 

Analogous to this treatment of metre, though 
belonging to a less formal side of his art, was 
Scott's treatment of nature, the landscape setting 
of his stories. Perhaps the most obvious feature 
of the romantic revival was a reawakening of 
interest in out-door nature. It was as if for a 
hundred years past people had been stricken blind 
as soon as they passed from the city streets into 



THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT 43 

the country. A trim garden, an artfully placed 
country house, a well-kept preserve, they might 
see ; but for the great shaggy world of mountain 
and sea — ^it had been shut out of man's elegant 
vision. Before Scott began to write there had 
been no lack of prophets of the new nature-wor- 
ship, but none of them of a sort to catch the 
general ear. Wordsworth's pantheism was too 
mystical, too delicate and intuitive, to recommend 
itself to any but chosen spirits ; Crabbe's descrip- 
tions were too minute, Coleridge's too intense, to 
please. Scott was the first to paint nature with a 
broad, free touch, without raptures or philosophiz- 
ing, but with a healthy pleasure in its obvious 
beauties, such as appeal to average men. His 
"scenery" seldom exists for its own sake, but 
serves, as it should, for background and setting of 
his story. As his readers followed the fortunes of 
William of Deloraine or Eoderick Dhu, they 
traversed by sunlight and by moonlight landscapes 
of wild romantic charm, and felt their beauty quite 
naturally, as a part of the excitement of that wild 
life. They felt it the more readily because of a 
touch of artificial stateliness in the handling, a 
slight theatrical heightening of effect — ^from an 
absolute point of view a defect, but highly con- 
genial to the taste of the time. It was the scenic 
side of nature which Scott gave, and gave inimi- 
tably, while Burns was piercing to the inner heart 
of her tenderness in his lines To a Mountain Daisy ^ 



44 INTRODUCTION 

and To a Mouse ^ while Wordsworth was mystically 
communing with her soul, in his Tint em Abiey. 
It was the scenic side of nature for which the per- 
ceptions of men were ripe ; so they left prof ounder 
poets to their musings, and followed after the poet 
who could give them a brilliant story set in a bril- 
liant scene. 

Again, the emotional key of Scott's poetry was 
on a comprehensible plane. The situations with 
which he deals, the passions, ambitions, satisfac- 
tions, which he portrays, belong, in one form or 
another, to all men, or at least are easily grasped by 
the imaginations of all men. It has often been 
said that Scott is the most Homeric of English 
poets ; so far as the claim rests on considerations of 
style, it is hardly to be granted, for nothing could 
be farther than the hurrying torrent of Scott's 
verse from the "long and refluent music" of 
Homer. But in this other respect, that he deals 
in the rudimentary stuff of human character in a 
straightforward way, without a hint of modern 
complexities and super-subtleties, he is really akin 
to the master poet of antiquity. This, added to 
the crude wild life which he pictures, the vigorous 
sweep of his action, the sincere glow of romance 
which bathes his story — all so tonic in their effect 
upon minds long used to the stuffy decorum of 
didactic poetry, completed the triumph of the Lay 
of the Last Minstrel^ Marmion^ and the Lady of 
the Lahe^ over their age. 



THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT 45 

As has been already suggested, Scott cannot be 
put in the first rank of poets. 'No compromise 
can be made on this point, because upon it the 
whole theory of poetry depends. Neither on the 
formal nor on the essential sides of his art is he 
among the small company of the supreme. And 
no one understood this better than himself. He 
touched the keynote of his own power, though with 
too great modesty, when he said, ''I am sensible 
that if there is anything good about my poetry . . 
. . it is a hurried frankness of composition which 
pleases soldiers, sailors, and young people of bold 
and active dispositions." The poet Campbell, who 
was so fascinated by Scott's ballad of Cadyow Castle 
that he used to repeat it aloud on the North Bridge 
of Edinburgh until "the whole fraternity of coach- 
men knew him by tongue as he passed," character- 
izes the predominant charm of Scott's poetry as 
lying in a * 'strong, pithy eloquence," which is 
perhaps only another name for "hurried frankness 
of composition. " If this is not the highest quality 
to which poetry can attain, it is a yery admirable 
one ; and it will be a sad day for the English-speak- 
ing race when there shall not be found persons of 
every age and walk of life, to take the same delights 
in these stirring poems as their author loved to 
think was taken by "soldiers, sailors, and young 
people of bold and active dispositions." 



III. MARMION 

Marmion was written at Ashestiel during the 
most tranquil and happy period of Scott's life. 
His pursuit of the law had begun to give him a 
good livelihood, and he had, in the intervals of his 
legal duties, abundant leisure to devote to liter- 
ature. He determined therefore to meet the criti- 
cisms which had been made upon the roughness 
and incoherence of the Lay of the Last Minstrel 
by writing his next poem more slowly, polishing 
and elaborating as he went. His business con- 
nection with Ballantyne partially interfered with 
this resolution. The first four cantos of Mar- 
7111071 consumed, it is true, a year in composition, 
from November 1806 to November 1807, but they 
were written only in the intervals of more pressing 
business. At this point, finding himself in need of 
ready money, Scott sold the poem in advance for a 
thousand guineas, and completed it at a high rate 
of speed. It is interesting to note that the part 
thus hastily written contains his most notable work 
as a poet. He was probably helped rather than 
hindered by circumstances which forced upon him 
that ''hurried frankness of composition," in which 
he once declared the real charm of his verse to lie. 

In the Lay Scott had put his story into the 
mouth of an old Harper, and by occasionally drop- 

46 



MARMION 47 

ping the song and recurring to the singer, had set 
the poem proper in a graceful framework. In 
Marmion he adopted a more formal means of 
introducing the various cantos, that of prefixing to 
them verse-letters, addressed to intimate friends, 
and embodying descriptions of his life at Ashestiel, 
reminiscences of his friendship with the persons 
addressed, comments upon public affairs of the 
hour, and meditations of a half -philosophic, half- 
sentimental sort upon human life in general. 
Objection has sometimes been made to these intro- 
ductions, on the score that they have no connection 
with the poem proper, and interrupt the progress 
of the story. Such is certainly the case ; from a 
strict artistic standpoint, it is difficult to justify 
them: but they throw so much light upon the 
temper of Scott's mind, and show in such a win- 
ning light certain phases of his private character, 
that the harshest critic can hardly deprecate their 
existence. 

The poem proper shows a surprising advance 
over Scott's earlier attempt in rhymed romance. In 
the first place, instead of the confused action and 
waving outline of the Lay^ we find a firmly con- 
ceived story, which, from the fine sunset picture of 
the opening to the brilliant battle-scene at the close, 
moves with ease and power. A brief outline of the 
story will enable us to see its strength, as well as 
its few points of weakness. 

Marmion, a famous English knight, has been 



48 INTRODUCTION 

despatched by Henry VIII. on an embassy to the 
Scotch court at Edinburgh, to inqmre the meaning 
of the warlike preparations which King James IV. 
is making. Just before crossing the Scotch border, 
he stops for the night at IS^orham Castle, the seat 
of Sir Hugh the Heron. The reception of Lord 
Marmion and his train at Norham with all the 
ceremonies prescribed by mediaeval courtesy, gives 
an opportunity for a rich and animated picture, 
which takes us at once into the spirit of the tale, 
and kindles our imagination to follow the events 
thus grandiosely ushered in. The evening is 
passed in feast and song, in the intervals of which 
Marmion declares his destination and errand, and 
asks for a guide for the rest of his journey. The 
task is a dangerous one, and Sir Hugh hesitates to 
sacrifice any of his men. At this juncture he is 
reminded of a Palmer who has lately come to the 
castle, a dark, mysterious man, holding converse 
with no one. The Palmer is brought in, and after 
gazing fixedly at Marmion, consents to be his 
guide. An inquiry on the part of Sir Hugh, con- 
cerning the whereabouts of a beautiful page who 
formerly made part of his guest's train, and a 
jesting query whether the page were not a maiden 
in disguise, manifestly disturbs Marmion, though 
he answers quietly that the boy has been left 
behind as unable to endure the harsh northern air. 
The second canto reveals the secret of Marmion 's 
disturbance. After a brief account of the knight's 



MARMION 49 

departure from Norham on his journey northward, 
the scene shifts to the Northumbrian seas, where a 
ship is bearing the Abbess of St. Hilda and her 
nuns to the Abbey of Lindisfarne. Her errand 
there is to hold a court of inquisition upon two 
offenders against the church, one a runaway nun, 
the other a common malefactor. The first proves 
to be the page of whom Sir Hugh has spoken. 
Lured from the coavent of St. Hilda by Marmion, 
Constance has followed him for three years in mas- 
culine disguise. Then, tiring of her, he has schemed 
to marry Clare, a rich young heiress betrothed to 
the knight De Wilton. He has made use of Con- 
stance's cunning pen to forge letters implicating De 
Wilton in treasonable plots against the English 
king ; and in the trial by battle to which De Wilton 
has been forced to appeal, has overthrown his 
victim. Clare, rather than wed the enemy of her 
lover, has fled to the protection of the Abbess of 
St. Hilda, and taken the novitiate's veil. There- 
upon, driven desperate by jealousy, Constance 
employs a ruffian to bring about her rival's death; 
and Marmion, in his anger at the deed, gives 
her into the custody of the church, though with , 
injunctions that she shall not suffer punishment for 
the breaking of her vows. In spite of these 
injunctions, however, she is now, together with her 
ruffian accomplice, condemned to a dreadful 
death. Before execution, stnG delivers to the 
Abbess a packet containing full proofs of Mar- 



50 INTRODUCTION 

mion's forgeries and of De Wilton's innocence. 
The canto completes the preliminaries of the 
story, besides furnishing, it may be remarked 
in passing, a most impressive picture of the power 
and pride of the mediaeval church. 

The third and fourth cantos are chiefly episod- 
ical. Still on his way to Edinburgh, Marmion 
stops with his train at a village inn. The presence 
of his mysterious guide weighs upon his spirits, 
and his restlessness is increased by a legend which 
the host narrates, concerning a prehistoric camping 
ground on the neighboring moor, where an elfin 
warrior waits to give battle at midnight to any 
mortal brave enough to enter the lists with him. 
After the other guests are asleep, Marmion sallies 
forth on his war-steed toward the place of ghostly 
combat. The next morning his horse lies dead 
in the stall; a horse belonging to his squire is 
found covered with foam and mud as if it too 
had been hard ridden in the night. Marmion 's 
party sets forth again, but has not gone far before 
encountering the Scottish King -at -Arms, Sir 
David Lindsay, who has been charged with the 
duty of detaining the English ambassador for a few 
days at Orichtoun Castle, some ten miles from 
Edinburgh. While here Marmion relates to Sir 
David his nocturnal adventure, in a veiled manner, 
yet not so vaguely but that the reader understands 
that he has been met in the haunted lists and 
unhorsed by a mysterious champion whom he 



MARMION 51 

believes to be the ghost of the wronged De Wilton. 
The remainder of the fourth canto is taken up with 
a brilliant description of the camping place of the 
Scotch force, which Sir Lindsay and Marmion pass 
on their way to the capital. 

While Marmion is at Holyrood, presenting his 
master's message to King James, the Abbess of St. 
Hilda, with Clare and other nuns in her company, 
has been taken prisoner and brought to Edinburgh. 
Hearing that the king, ignorant of Marmion 's con- 
nection with Clare, has given the captives into his 
charge, the Abbess contrives to gain an audience 
with the Palmer, and commits to his care the 
papers which prove Marmion 's forgeries, urging 
him to guard them for the good of holy church. 
From this time on the manner of the Palmer 
changes. His settled melancholy leaves him; his 
bearing becomes animated and soldierly; he no 
longer disturbs Marmion 's peace with his intense 
and brooding gaze. 

The secret of his identity is revealed in the sixth 
canto in a very dramatic manner. King James, 
desiring to delay Marmion 's return, confides the 
whole party to the care of Lord Douglas, and to 
Douglas's castle of Tantallon, accordingly, they pro- 
ceed. Here, while walking at twilight on a remote 
balcony which overhangs the sea, Clare finds a suit 
of armor laid out, as if for the vigil which aspirants 
for knighthood kept over their arms on the eve of 
receiving the accolade. The owner of the armor at 



62 INTRODUCTION 

length appears, and to her infinite astonishment 
she beholds De Wilton, her lost lover. In a few 
words he tells his story. Left for dead on the field 
of battle, he has been nursed back to life by a 
hermit ; then, an exile from England, he has sought 
escape from the thought of his disgrace by assum- 
ing the dress of a Palmer, and by making pilgrim- 
ages to far countries. He has at last returned, 
fallen by chance into the company of Marmion, 
repaired his honor by defeating his enemy in the 
magic lists at midnight, and finally, received from 
the hands of the Abbess the proofs of Marmion 's 
conspiracy to rob him of his bride. By these 
proofs he has convinced the Douglas of his 
innocence, and is about to receive once more the 
honor of knighthood at the old nobleman's hands, 
before departing to join the English forces mustered 
to oppose the Scottish invasion. At Marmion's 
leave-taking, Douglas refuses to give his hand to one 
who has been proved so perfidious, and a quarrel 
ensues from which Marmion barely escapes with 
his life. The remainder of the poem is taken up 
with the famous description of the battle of 
Flodden Field. Marmion dies in battle, and De 
Wilton survives to wed Clare and regain his ancient 
honors. 

It will be evident from this outline that the plot 
is not quite perfectly constructed. The meeting 
of Marmion with Sir David Lindsay and their 
sojourn together at Crichtoun Castle, aside from 



MARMION 53 

affording opportunity for a brilliant bit of his- 
torical portraiture, serve no other purpose than to 
enable Marmion to relate what has befallen him in 
the haunted lists. The capture of the Abbess by- 
Scottish soldiers is not a historically probable 
incident. The passage devoted to the Scottish 
court at Holyrood, though it does perhaps con- 
tribute to an understanding of the causes underly- 
ing the disastrous battle which forms the finale of 
the poem, does not advance the story perceptibly. 
These, however, are at worst minor flaws in a 
stirring and well-wrought tale, the structure of 
which shows a surprising advance over Scott's first 
attempt in metrical romance. 

Since writing his Lay of the Last Minstrel Scott 
has also gained enormously in the power to handle 
single dramatic situations. The trial of Constance, 
in the subterranean depths of the Abbey at 
Lindisfarne, the encounter of Marmion with his 
spectral ioe in the goblin lists by moonlight, the 
meeting of Clare and De Wilton on the parapet at 
Tantallon, the refusal of Douglas to give his 
hand to his proud guest — these are all admirably 
dramatic, and with one exception, are handled 
with admirable force. The exception, the meet- 
ing of Clare and De Wilton, is significant of 
Scott's limitations as a poet. He had to deal 
here with a moment full of intense passion, 
surprise and rapture. He failed to rise to the 
demand : 



54 INTEODUCTION 

Expect not, noble dames and lords, 
That I can tell such scene in words : 
What skilful limner e'er would choose 
To paint the rainbow's varying hues, 

Far less can my weak line declare 
Each changing passion's shade ; 

Brightening to rapture from despair, 

Sorrow, surprise, and pity there, 

And joy, with her angelic air, 

And hope, that paints the future fair. 
Their varying hues display 'd: 

These lines are under the circumstances weak 
and unsatisfying. But when the passions to be 
dealt with are of a more martial cast, as notably 
in the quarrel between Marmion and Douglas, 
Scott's treatment of his theme is inimitable in 
its headlong rush, and its ringing eloquence. 

In contrast with the Lady of the Lahe^ the story 
of Marmion has a somewhat melodramatic or 
''stagey" character; it suggests the lime-lights of 
the theatre in the violence of its effects. The same 
theatrical or conventional quality belongs to many 
of the characters, especially the major ones. The 
mysterious Palmer, the ghl disguised as a page 
in the train of her lover, the courtly and unscru- 
pulous knight, the wronged maiden who flees to the 
protection of Mother Chui'ch to escape a hateful 
suitor — all the principal personages of the story, 
indeed, are "stock figures" of drama and romance. 
It is in the minor figures that Scott's power of 



MARMION 55 

painting character is better shown. The Abbess, 
Sir David Lindsay, and Lord Douglas, are all 
sketched with truth, and appeal to the imagina- 
tion not as types, but as real persons. 

Scott is reported to have said that in Marmion 
he had "thrown the force on description." 
Abundant as is the interest of incident and of 
character in the poem, it is probably the descrip- 
tive passages which linger longest in the mind. 
Even^iha- characters, indeed, interest us rather as 
pictures than as persons. What, for example, 
should we care for Sir David Lindsay if it were 
not for the description, so cunningly drawn and 
richly colored, which introduces him? And what 
is true of such single figures is still more true of 
the larger descriptive passages of the story. The 
reception of Marmion at Norham Castle, the secret 
tribunal in the dungeon vaults of Lindisfarne Ab- 
bey, the view of the Scottish camp and the distant 
city of Edinburgh, the approach to Tantallon Cas- 
tle, and, above all, the large and rapidly shifting 
panorama of the battle of Flodden Field — these 
are pictures which a reader will not easily forget. 
It is worthy of notice, too, that the most successful 
of these descriptions are those like the reception of 
Marmion and the battle, which involve an element 
of rapid movement. 

The crude supernaturalism of the Lay gives way 
in Marmion to a kind of realism which knows how 
to get the heightened effects of supernaturalism by 



56 INTEODUCTION 

purely natural means. The night-ride of Marmion, 
for instance, suggests for a time the most eerie 
and ghoulish thoughts, but is at last rationally 
explained. Scott has not yet, it is true, ceased to 
deal in the merely supernatural, as is shown by the 
mysterious vision of foreboding which De Wilton 
and the Abbess behold above the Cross of Edin- 
burgh ; but he has learned to use the supernatural 
with greater reserve, and to give to his poetry as a 
whole an appearance of everyday truth. 

The metre of Marmion is smoother and more 
felicitous than that of the Lay of the Last Minstrel; 
and fuller of lively transitions, less prone to 
monotony, than that of the Lady of the Lahe. 
Scott never uses metre very delicately, but he fre- 
quently puts into it a soldierly music which stirs 
the blood and impresses itself on the memory. It 
is of the bugle, the drum, or his own native bag- 
pipe, rather than of the organ or the violin, that 
we think in connection with his verse. His purely 
lyrical quality is shown admirably in Fitz- 
Eustace's song. His power to make verse reflect 
the excitement of a crowded moment is best shown 
in the quarrel between Marmion and Douglas. 
His mastery of the airier suggestions of poetry and 
his ability to mirror them in sound is perhaps best 
exemplified in the following passage, describing 
the tolling of Constance's death-knell. It is per- 
haps the most imaginative bit of description which 
Scott's work contains: 



MARMION 5 

Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung, 
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung : 
To Warkworth cell the echoes roll'd, 
His beads the wakeful hermit told, 
The Bamborough peasant raised his head, 
But slept e'er half a prayer he said ; 
So far was heard the mighty knell, 
The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell, 
Spread his broad nostrils to the wind, 
Listed before, aside, behind. 
Then couch'd him down beside the hind, 
And quaked among the mountain fern. 
To hear that sound so dull and stem. 



(V 



y 






INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIEST 

TO WILLIAM STEWAKT KOSE, ESQ 

jj. Ashestiel, Ettrich Forest 

November's sky is chill and drear, ""^^ .^i^ 
November's leaf is red and sear : '^^>4r''^ 
Late, gazing down the steepy linn pfs 

That hems our little garden in, , ' 

5 Low in its dark and narrow glen, 
You scarce the rivulet might ken. 
So thick the tangled greenwood grew, 
So feeble trill'd the streamlet through: 
Now murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen 

10 Through bush and briar, no longer green, 
An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, 
Brawls over rock and wild cascade. 
And, foaming brown with doubled speed. 
Hurries its waters to the Tweed. 

No longer Autumn's glowing red 
Upon our Forest hills is shed ; 
No more, beneath the evening beam. 
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam ; 
5 Away hath passed the heather-bell 
That bloom'd so rich on Needpath Fell ; 

59 




60 MARMION 

Sallow his brow, and russet bare 
Are now the sister -heights of Yair. 
The sheep, before the pinching heaven, 
To shelter 'd dale and down are driven, 
Where yet some faded herbage pines. 
And yet a watery sunbeam shines : 
In meek despondency they eye 
The wither 'd sward and wintry sky, 
And far beneath their summer hill, 
Stray sadly by Glenkinnon's rill: 
The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold. 
And wraps him closer from the cold ; 
His dogs no merry circles wheel, 
But shivering follow at his heel ; 
A cowering glance they often cast. 
As deeper moans the gathering blast. 

Ill 

My imps, though hardy, bold and wild, 
As best befits the mountain child. 
Feel the sad influence of the hour, 
And wail the daisy's vanished flower; 
Their summer gambols tell, and mourn, 
And anxious ask, — Will spring return, 
And birds and lambs again be gay. 
And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray? 

IV 

Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower 
Again shall paint your summer bower ; 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST 61 

Again the hawthorn shall supply 
The garlands you delight to tie ; 
5 The lambs upon the lea shall bound, 
The wild birds carol toTtierounc ^ 
And while you frolic light as they, 
Too short shall seem the summer day, 



To mute and to material things 
New life revolving summer brings ; ^ I 

The genial call dead Nature hears, J ^v 

And in her glory reappears. » i^^^^fu 

5 But oh! my Country's wintry state \ - "^ j &yis^ 

What second spring shall renovate? v"^ 

What powerful call shall bid arise 
The buried warlike and the wise ; 
The mind that thought for Britain's wear5> 

10 The hand that grasp 'd the victor steel? 

The vernal sun new life bestows "T 

Even on the meanest flower that blows ; . i 4^ ^ 
But vainly, vainly may he shine, ^ "i-^A'^'n 
Where glory weeps o'er Nelson 'S^lu*in^4 "^VJ/ 

15 And vainly pierce the solemn gloom, ^rx/^^^ /f 




That shrouds, Pitt, thy hallowed tomb 

Deep graved in every British heart, 
never let those names depart ! 
Say to your sons, — Lo, here his grave 
Who victor died on Gadite wave ; 






$ 



fy<0 



v#^ 



NO 



62 MARMION . ,, It^ 

To him, as to the burning levin, 

Short, bright, resistless course was given, 

Where'er his country's foes were found. 

Was heard the fated thunder's sound. 

Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, 

EoU'd, blazed, destroy'd, — and was no more. 



10 



VII 

JSfoMiourn ye less his perish'd worth 
Who.|^e the conqueror go forth, 
And launch' d that thunderbolt of war 
On Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar ; 

Who, born to guide such high emprize, 5 

For Britain's weal was early wise; . , 

Alas ! to whom the Almighty gave, J\, 

For Britain's sins an early grave! jT |/^ 

His worth, who, in his mightiest ho]ir 
A bauble held the pride of ^p^^p ' i o 

Spurn'd at the sordid lust of pelf, ^. ^ 
And served his Albion for herself; viw V^ 

Who, when the frantic crowd, al^aiin 
Strain' d at subjection's bursting rein, r^ 

O'er their wild mood full conquest gain'd, 15 

The pride, he would not crush, restrain'd, 
Show'd their fierce zeal a worthier cause, 
And brought the freeman's arm, to aid the free- 
man's laws. y\ 1 

Had'st thou but lived, though stripp'd or power .^^^3 
A watchman on the lonely tower, ^ > (\V\ ^ * 



\ 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST 63 

Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, 

When fraud or danger were at hand ; 
5 By thee, as by the beacon-light, 

Our pilots had kept course aright ; 

As some proud column, though alone, 

Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne: 

Now is the stately column broke, 
10 The beacon-light is quench'd in smoke. 

The trumpet's silver sound is still, 

The warder silent on the hill! 

Oh, think, how to his latest day, , ^ 

When Death, just hovering, claim'd hi^ Wfy^i /7aa£S^ 

With Palinure's unalter'd mood, ^A^"' ^j^jj^ 

Firm atTiE'Hangerous post he stood ; J^jplMp#^^^^ 
5 Each call for needful rest repell'd, >|-| ^tM^"^ ^ 

With dying hand the rudder held, | Q 

Till, in his fall, with fateful sway. 

The steerage of the realm gave way ! 

Then, whila on 3ritaijL's^hQus^n^j)lains, . ^ 

10 One unpolluted cliurcxh'rfetiidins, J ^v>^y 

Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around ^ 

The bloody tocsin's maddening sound, 

But still, upon the hallow 'd day. 

Convoke the swains to praise and pray; 
15 While faith and civil peace are dear, 

Grace this cold marble with a tear, — 

He, who preserved them, Pitt, lies hjere ! ^^. 



^^^^^^..^^ r^ ^^^ m ^iJuuf^nMu\ 



MARMION 



Nor yet suppress the generous sigh, 
Because his rival slumbers nigh; 
Nor be thy requiescat dumb, 
Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb. 
For talents mourn, untimely lost, ^ 

When best employ'd, and wanted most, 
Mourn genius high, and lore profound, 
And wit that loved to play, not wound; 
And all the reasoning powers divine. 
To penetrate, resolve, combine ; ^ 

And feelings keen, and fancy's glow,— 
They sleep with him who sleeps below : 
And, if thou mourn'st they could not save 
From error him who owns this grave. 
Be every harsher thought suppress 'd, i^ 

And sacred be the last long rest. 
Here^ where the end of earthly things 
Lays heroes, patriots^ bards, and kings; 
Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue, 
Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung; 
Here^ where the fretted aisles prolong 
The distant notes of holy song, 
As if some angel spoke agen, 
"All peace on earth, good-will to men;" 
If ever from an English heart, 
0, here let prejudice depart, 
And, partial feeling cast aside. 
Record that Fox a Briton died! 




INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST 65 

When Europe eronch'd to France's yoke, 
30 And Austria bent, and Prussia broke, 

And the firm Eussian's purpose brave 

Was barter 'd by a timorous slave, 

Even then dishonour's peace he spurn 'd, 

The sullied olive-branch returned, 
35 Stood for his country's glory fast. 

And nail'd her colours to the mast! 

Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave 

A portion in his honour 'd grave, 

And ne'er held marble in its trust 
40 Of two such wondrous men the dust. 

XI 

With more than mortal powers endow'd. 
How high they soar'd above the crowd! 
Theirs was no common party race. 
Jostling by dark intrigue for place ; 

5 Like fabled Gods, their mighty war 
Shook realms and nations in its jar ; 
Beneath each banner proud to stand, 
Look'd up the noblest of the land. 
Till throiigh the British world were known ' _ 

10 The names of Pitt and Eox alone. XM^'^^^^^^ 

Spells of such force noaj^zhr i l grave i ^^yCf ^^^ '^ ^ 
E'er framed in dark I^E^sanan'S^e/'* '^ ^JU^ '^^i^^'^ 
Though his could drain the ocean dry, ..^ -d^^^ 4J^ 
And force the planets from the sky. '^^^^ Ir/ K^^, 

15 These spells are spent, and, spent with tHese,'T r ^' ^*" 
The wine of life is on the lees. ryvl^^ S^^ 

H 1 





66 MARMION 

Genius, and taste, and talent gone. 

For ever tomb'd beneath the stone. 

Where — ^taming thought to human pride ! — 

The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. 

Drop npon Fox's grave the tear, 

'Twill trickle to his rival's bier; 

O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound, 

And Fox's shall the notes rebound. 

The solemn echo seems to cry, — 

"Here let their discord with them die./ 

Speak not for those a separate doom 

Whom Fate made Brothers in the tomb; 

But search the land of living men, 

Where wilt thou find their like agen?'* 30 

XII 

Kest, ardent Spirits! till the cries 
Of dying Nature bid you rise ; 
Not even your Britain's groans can pierce 
The leaden silence of your hearse ; 
Then, 0, how impotent and vain 5 

This grateful tributary strain ! 
Though not unmark'd from northern clime. 
Ye heard the Border Minstrel 's rhyme : 
His Gothic harp has o'er you rung; 
The Bard you deign'd to praisq, your* deathless 10 
names has sung. ^.iL- ^ Is^^ ^ > ^^^^ 

XIII 

Stay yet, illusion, stay a while, 
My wilder 'd fancy still beguile! 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST 67 

From this high theme how can I part, 

Ere half unloaded is my heart ! 
5 For all the tears e'er sorrow drew, 

And all the raptures fancy knew, 

And all the keener rush of blood 

That throbs through bard in bard-like mood. 

Were here a tribute mean and low, 
10 Though all their mingled streams could flow — 

Woe, wonder, and sensation high. 

In one spring-tide of ecstasy !--- 

It will not be — it may not last — 

The vision of enchantment's past: 
15 Like frostwork in the morning ray. 

The fancied fabric melts away ; 

Each Gothic arch, memorial-stone. 

And long, dim, lofty aisle, are gone; 

And, lingering last, deception dear, 
^ The choir's high sounds die on my ear 

Now slow return the lonely down. 

The silent pastures bleak and brown. 

The farm begirt with copsewood wild. 

The gambols of each frolic child, 
25 Mixing their shrill cries with the tone 

Of Tweed's dark waters rushing o|i 

XIV 



ar| f 




^-^"^^ 



Prompt on unequal tasks to run. 
Thus Nature disciplines her son : 
Meeter, she says, for me to stray. 
And waste the solitary day 



68 MARMION 

In plucking from yon fen the reed, 6 

And watch it floating down the Tweed ; 

Or idly list the shrilling lay 

With which the milkmaid cheers her way, 

Marking its cadence rise and fail, 

As from the field, beneath her pail, lo 

She trips it down the uneven dale : 

Meeter for me, by yonder cairn, 

The ancient shepherd's tale to learn; 

Though oft he stop in rustic feai', 

Lest his old legends tire the ear is 

Of one who, in his simple mind. 

May boast of book-learn'd taste refined. 

XV 

But thou, my friend, canst fitly tell, 
(For few have read romance so well,) 
How still the legendary lay 
O'er poet's bosom holds its sway; 
How on the ancient minstrel strain 5 

Time lays his palsied hand in vain ; 
And how our hearts at doughty deeds, 
By warriors wrought in steely weeds. 
Still throb for fear and pity 's sake ; \ -^ 

As when the Champion of the Lake ^ - ; ^ 

Enters Morgana 's fated house, 
Or in the Chapel Perilous, '"^ 

Despising spells and demons' force, 
Holds converse with the unburied corse ; 
Or when, Dame Gapore's grace to movg^i* 15 




INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST 

(Alas, that lawless was their love!) 
He sought proud Tarquin in his den, 
And freed full sixty knights ; or when, 
A sinful man and unconf ess 'd, 
80 He took the Sangreal's holy quest, ^A^- 
And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
He might not view with waking eye. 

XVI 

The mightiest chiefs of British song 
Scorn'd not such legends to prolong: 
They gleam through Spenser's elfin dreajpi, 
Ap.d mix in Milton's heavenly theme; . ^ 

5' Aiid Dryden, in immortal strain, } v,^ ' - " 
Had raised the Table Eound again. 
But that a ribald King and Court 
Bade him toil on, to make them sport ; 
Demanded for their niggard pay, 

10 Fit for their souls, a looser lay. 
Licentious satire, song, and play ; 
The world defrauded of the high design. 
Profaned the God-given strength, and marr'd the 
lofty line. 

XVII 

Warm'd by such names, well may we then, 
Though dwindled sons of little men, 
Essay to break a feeble lance 
In the fair fields of old romance ; 
5 Or seek the moated castle's cell, 



70 MARMION 

Where long through talisman and spell, 

While tyrants ruled and damsels wept, 

Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept: 

There sound the harpings of the North, 

Till he awake and sally forth, w 

On venturous quest to prick again. 

In all his arms, with all his train. 

Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, and scarf, 

Fay, giant, dragon, squire, and dwai^f. 

And wizard with his wand of might, 15 

And errant maid on palfrey white. 

Around the Genius weave their spells, 

Pure Love, who scarce his passion tells; 

Mystery, half-veil'd and half -reveal'd ; 

And Honour, with his spotless shield; 20 

Attention, with fix'd eye; and Fear, 

That loves the tale she shrinks to hear ; 

And gentle Courtesy; and Faith, 

Unchanged by sufiEerings, time, or death ; 

And Valour, lion-mettled lord, 26 

Leaning upon his own good sword. 

XVIII 

Well has thy fair achievement shown 
A worthy meed may thus be won ; 
Ytene's oaks — beneath whose shade 
Their theme the merry minstrels made, 
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold, 6 

And that Bed King, who, while of old 
Through Boldrewood the chase he led. 



>r^/{j^ 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST . 71 

By his lov'd huntsman's arrow bled — 
Ytene's oaks have heard again 

10 Eenew'd such legendary strain; 

For thou hast sung, how He of Gaul, ^ Aj/yi^^^'^^'^^ 
That Amadis so famed in hall, UM/^ / j J ^^ V^ 
For Oriana, foil'd in fight ^"'^ ff ^^ 

The Necromancer's felon might; '^ ^/a.#^^ 

15 And well in modern verse hast wove . ,-%^4 /fHA-TV^ 
Partenopex's mystic love rf^^^iA/^ ^ tP^ ^rt % - 

Hear, then, attentive to my lay, ' ^ 
A knightly tale of Albion's elder day. -^ / 

i J .J ^^ 



4y 




^Ut/ 



^^J.^^:^\,^. 



Xx^t^ 



* 'A 




1. 






ANTO FIRST 
The Castle 



Day set , on NOTh^^'i^asUed^teen^^^ 
And Tweed's fair rivjer j| or^LcTand d^ 



/U<^^'<-^ 




And,Chey;iot's mountains lone-?'^'^;^|^. 
Th6 battled towers, the donjon keep, 
The loophole grates, where captives weep, 
The flanking walls that round it sweep^ 

In yellow lustre shone^ <■ .^ ^ j \ *V.^^ 
The warriors on the turrets high^ 
Moving athwart *the evening sky, 

Seem'd forms of giant height : !• 

Their armour, as it caught the rays. 
Flash 'd back again the western blaze, 

In lines of dazzling light. 

II 

Saint George's banner, broad and gay. 
Now faded, as the fading ray 

Less bright, and less, was flung; 
The evening gale had scarce the power 
To wave it on the Donjon Tower, 5 

So heavily it .hung, jt * 
The scouts had" partedoli their search, 

The Castle gates were barr'd; 

72 



CANTO FIRST 73 

Above the gloomy portal arch, 
10 Tjming his footsteps to a march, 
f/v^U'tt^'he Warder kept his guard, 

a Low humming, as he paced along, ,^^„g4,*jU^ ^ ^^ 
Some ancient Border gathering fong. 

Ill 

A distant trampling sound he hears ; 
He looks abroad, and sopn^pears, 



O'er Horncliff-hill a 



^ay; f f If 



Beneath a pennon gay 
5 A horseman, darting from the crowd, 
Like lightning fi*om a sumn^r cloud, 
Spurs on his mettled courser proud, , , ^ / 

Before the dark array!! ^^'^ ^ , / ^ '■f\Jj^*'"' 
Beneath the sable palisade, r ^^^ "^^ ^ f 

10 That closed the Castle barricade, 
His bugle-horn he blew ; 
The warder hasted from the wall. 
And warn'd the Captain in the hall, 
For well the blast he knew; 
15 And joyfully that j^night did call .^ ^^ 

To,spFer, squire, and seneschal. \u. :\i 

''Now broach je ^^^^ ^^ Malvoisie, * ^ ' 

Bring frnfiS^olthS doe, ^jUA^^Ji^ -TU^ U 
And quickly make the entrance free, 
And bid my heralds ready be, 




74 MARMION 

And every minstrel sound his glee, /tfl^"^^^^ 5 

And all our trumpets blow ; xi'-s^ 

And, from the platform, spare je not h ijP^ 
To fire a noble salvo-shot fe-i^tu:€f 4 J/V^ 
Lord Makmiok waits below!" }" 

Then to the Castle's lower ward CM^/ ^^ 
Sped forty yeomen tall, t^^'^^^^J^^ 
^ Tl:#*iron-^tudded gates unbaTr!d{ r^ .^.jh 
^ liaised jthe portcullis poimerous guard, i 
' The lofty palisade unsparr'd yi^A^i/yf^ 

And let the drawbridge fall. 16 




V 

Along the bridge Lord Ma^^mic^ rode^^/ 
Proudly Mb red-roan charger ttbde,^ 
His helm nimg at the saddlebow ; 
Well by his visage you might know 
He was a stalworth knight, and keen, 
And had in many a battle been ; i/''\l]^ 

The scar on his brown cheek rey^ard pV-^^ 
A token true of Bosworth field^; ' 
His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire 
Show'd spirit proud, and prompt to ire; 10 

Yet lines of thought upon his cheek 
Did deep design and coui^el ppeakj^ .^ 
His forehead, by his casque wOrii l3are, 
His thick moustache and curly hair, 
Coal black, and grizzled here and there, 15 

But more through toil than age; 



^ 



CANTO FIRST 75 



af pet knignt so trim, W^''*"*'^^ 



His square-turn 'd joints aijd 
Show'd him no c 

But in close figKt a champion grim, 
In camps a leader sage 



Well was he arm'd frioni head ta M^l» l^iy|> - 

In mail and plate of Milan steel ; **^^'*''^^ 

But his strong helm, of mighty cost, " J 

Was all with burnish'd gold emboss 'd^J^^J^J^ %M 

5 Amid the plumage of the crest, ^^^''i'^L^^Z^ ' ' 
A falcon hover 'd on her nest, ^ ^* *^ 

With wings outspread, and forward breast : 
E'en such a falcon, g^ his shield, 
Soar 'd sable in an azild^e field : 
10 The golden legend bore aright, *'lf7jJ^^ 

IMIbo ci^zds at me, to 6eatb ia Mgbt clM^^^^ 
Blue was the charger's broider'd rein; 
Blue ribbons deck'd his arching mane; jk^H^^'"^-- 
The knightly hJusing's ample fold (M^ ^ , 

15 Was velvet blue, and trapp'd with««ol<i- 

...... f ^ 

VII . i 

Behind him rode two gallant squires, 
Of noble name, and knightly ^ires;. //i/, ' 
They burn'd the gildetf spufs to claim ^^ j 
For well could each a war-horse tame, ^ 

6 Could draw the bow, the sword could sway. 
And lightly bear the ring away ; 



'i 



v:r^ 




76 MARMION 

Nor less with courteous precepts stored, 

Could dance in hall, and caTv§ jj; bo^^d^ diJ 

And frame love-ditties passftig rare, / J 

And sing them to a lady fair. i* 

Four men-atiarm^ame^^^Aeir backs, 

With halbrnf^mu aiioL Dai^^!x^ 

They bore LorM^^M strong, 

And led his sumpter-mules along. 

And ^jnbling palfa^ey, TV^lfeff at need 5 

Him listed ease his battle-steed. 

The last and trustiest of the four 

On high his f orky pennon bore ; 

Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, 

Flutter 'dth^ st:^|a^er glossy blue, 10 

Where, blazgfii'i^able, as before, 

The towering falcon seem'd to soar. 

Last, twenty yeomen, two an^ two, 

In hosen black and jerHns blue, / 

With falcons broider'd on each breast,.,^^^^^ is 

Attended on then* lord's behest: ^^ - " ' 

Each, chosen for an archer good, 

Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood; 

Each one a six-foot bow could b^ndj-m 

And far a clotn -yard shaft could send; 20 

Each held a boar-spear tough and strong, 

And at their belts their quivers rung. 

Their dusty palfreys and array 

Show'd they had march 'd a weary way. 




CANTO FIEST 77 

IX 

'Tis meet that I should tell you now, 

How fairly arm'd, and order'd how, , I 

The soldiers of the guard, J X'#^^$4^ C*^ 

With musket, pike, and morion, ii ^/M^^f] 
5 To welcome noble Marmion, V 

Stood in the Castle-yard; 
Minstrels and trumpeters were there. 
The gunner held his linstock yare^,^ -^ 

For welcome-shot prepared : ^ 

10 Enter 'd the train, and such a clang, 

As then through all his turrets rang. 

Old Norham never heard. i 

The guards their morrice-p^ea,^advanced, ^ 

The trumpets flourish 'd^4)r aye, .. > / 

The cannon from the ramparts blanced, yU^^'^^^^^'^ 

And thundering welcome gave. 
5 A blithe salute, in martial sort. 

The minstrels well might sound, ^ y ^ ^., 

For, as Lord Marj^ion crpss'^i Jhe court-^.^^^^^^Y^^^in 2 < ^ 

He scatter 'd angek^o'^a. '^ ^^ 
'* Welcome to Nor ham, Marmion! 
10 Stout hearfc, and open hand! 
Well dost thou brool: my gfilTant roan, 

Thou flower of English land!" 

Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck. 

With silver scutcheon round their neck, f * _^ V 



- - A 

!, with herald pomp and state, ,.0^ f%)r 5 
dl'd Lord Marmion: iJ^" ^4 /{| 



78 MARMION 

/ 
Stood on the steps of stone 

By which you reach the donjon gate, 

And there 

They hail 
They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye, ^ 

Of Tamworth tower and town; ^^^^^ 
And he, their ^o^urtesy to requite/'^ ^^ ^ lo 

Gave them a chain of twelve marks' weight, i t!k y 

All as he|i|hted^0T|i.^^^.|^^^^^^^^^ Ipl^V'^^^ 
"Now, laa^gf^e, lai^fe^, Lord Mafoiion, 

Knight of the crest of gold ! 
A blazon'd shield, in battle won, is 

Ne'er guarded heart so bold." ' 

XII 

They marshall'd him to the Castle-hall, 

Where the guests stood all aside, 
And loudly flourish'd the trumpet-call, 

And the heralds loudly cried, — - 
*'Koom, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion, 5 

With the crest and helm of gold ! ^,, ^ 

Full well we know: the trophies mon ^"^■^^.^^-^ 

In the lists at Cottkwold : ; /L^^itJM^^^ 
There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 

'Gainst Marmion 's forc^ to stand; 10 

To him he lost his lady-love, 

And to the King his land, ti v 
Ourselves beheld the listed field, 

A sight both sad and fair ; 



CANTO FIRST 79 

15 We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, 

And saw his saddle bare ; 
We saw the victor win the crest 

He wears with worthy pride ; . '^' /^ tl/Y^'^ 

And on the gibbet -tree, reversed, ^^f^^^'^' tlt^AA 
20 His foeman's scutcheon tied. "" / / 

Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! 

Koom, room, ye gentles gay. 
For him who conqner'd in the right, 

Marmion of Fontenaye ! " 

XIII 

Then stepp 'd to meet that noble Lord, 

Sir Hugh the Heron bold. 
Baron of Twisell, and^of Fgrd, . y 

And Captain of thd^lffoldtl ^ | ,:^^/4'^ 

5 He led Lord Marmion to the deas, ^"^^ J 

Eaised o'er the pavement high, 
And placed him in the upper place — 

They feasted full and high : /^ 

The whiles a Northern harper rude ^ ^ 
10 Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, f^ 

'''How the fierce Thirwalls^ and Ridley s all^ 
Stout Willimondswich^ 
And Hardriding Dich^ 
And Hiighie of Haw don ^ and Will o' the Wall^ 
15 Have set on Sir Albany Feather stonhaugh^ 

And tahen his life at the Deadman'^ s-shaw.'^p ' ' * 
Scantly Lord Marmion 's ear could brook ^/tM^-*'^^ 
The harper 's barbarous lay ; 



80 MARMION 

Yet much he prais'd the pains he took, 

And well those pains did pay : 20 

For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, 
By knight should ne'er be heard in vain. 

XIV 

*'Now, good Lord Marmion, " Heron says, 

''Of your fair courtesy, 
I pray you bide some little space 

In this poor tower with me. 
Here may you|keep your arms from rust, 

May breame^ your war-horse well ; 
Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust ' r"^ 

Or feat of arms befell : 
The Scots can r^in a piettled ste^d, *|;| V\ 

And love to coiich a spear ; — ' 

Saint George ! a stirring life they lead, 

That have such neighbours near. 
Then stay with us a little space, 

Our northern wars to learn ; 
I pray you, for your lady's grace!" — is 

Lord Marmion's brow grew stern. 

The Captain mark'd his alter 'd look, a ^J^^ 

And gave a squire th| signal ^^jj^^-'^^^ 
A mighty wassail-'bo^Lhfe'^took, .^^A W"^^ 

And crown 'd it high with wine. ' 
''Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion: 5 

But first I pray thee fair, 




CANTO FIRST 81 

Where hast thou left that page of thine, 
That used to serve thy cup of wine, 

Whose beauty was so |^jb? 
10 When last in Raby towefrfwe met, 

The boy I closely eyed, 
And often mark 'd his^ che6k^ were wet 

With tears he f ai^ wotild/hide : 
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, 
15 To burnish shield or sharpen brand, 

Or saddle battle-steed ; 
But meeter seem'd for lady fair. 
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair, 
Or through embroidery, rich and rare, 
20 The slender silk to lead : 

His skin was fair, his ringlets gold. 

His bosom — when he sigh 'M 
The russet doublet 's rugged Jold 

Could scarce repel its pride ! 
25 Say, hast thou given that lovely youth 

To serve in lady's bower? 
Or was the gentle page, ii^ sootii, ^j/J^ 

A gentle paramour?" J^4.^^ V^^ 

XVI 

Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest; 

He roU'd his kindling eye, 
With pain his rising wrath suppress 'd. 

Yet made a calm reply : 
5 *'That boy thou thought 'st so goodly fair, 
He might not brook the northern air ; 



82 MARMION 

More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, 

I left him sick in Lindisf arn : 

Enough of him. — But, Heron, say, 

Why does thy lovely lady gay ^^ 

Disdain to grace the hall to-day? 

Or has that dame, so fair and sage, 

Gone on some pious pilgidmage?" 

He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 

Whisper'd light tales of Heron's dame. ^^ 

TJnmark'd, at least unreck'd, the taunt, 

Careless the Knight replied, 
**No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt, 

Delights in cage to bide : I 

Norham is grim and grated close, J ^ | ^y iK. 5 

Hemm'd in by battlement and fosse, i^'" 

And many a darksome tower ; 
And better loves my lady bright 
To sit in liberty and light 
^^In fair Queen Margaret's bower, """""^ns^ 10 

/^ We hold our greyhound in our hand, \ 

Our falcon on our glove ; 
But where shall we find leash or band, 

For dame that loves to rove? 
Let the wild falcon soar her swing, / 15 

She'll stoop when she has tired her wing.') 

XVIII 

"Nay, if with Royal James's bride 
The lovely Lady Heron bide, 




fUjxA^ |to(^ c 



GANM) FfilST 83 

Behold me here^ messenger, 

Your tender greetings prompt to bear; 
5 For, to the Scottish court address'd, 

I journey at our King's behest. 

And pray you, of your grace, provide 

For me, and mine, a trusty guide. 

I have not ridden in Scotland since 
10 James back'd the cause of that mock prince, 

War beck, that Flemish counterfeit. 

Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. 

Then did I march with Surrey's power. 

What time we razed old Ayton tower." — 

XIX 



7 



"For such -like need, my lord, I trow, 
Norham can find you guides enow ; 
For here be some have prick'd as far 
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar 
5 Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, ^ 
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, / j 

And given them light to set their hoods." — ]j^^/^^^^^^^^ 

XX 

*'Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried, 
*'Were I in warlike wise to ride, 
A better guard I would not lack 
Than your stout f orayers at my back ; 
5 But, as in form of peace I go, 
A friendly messenger, to know, 



ii ■I 



84 MARMION 

Why, through all Scotland, near and far, 

Their King is mustering troops for war, 

The sight of plundering Border spears 

Might justify suspicious fears, lo 

And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 

Break out in some unseemly broil : 

A herald were my fitting guide ; 

Or friar, sworn in peace to bide; 

Or pardoner, or trayelling priest, 15 

Or strolling pilgrim, at the least." 

XXI 1 

The Captain mused a little space. 

And pass'd his hand across his face. — 

'Tain would I find the guide you want, 

But ill may spare a pursuiyant, 

The only men that safe can ride 5 

Mine errands on the Scottish side : 

And though a bishop built this fort, 

Few holy brethren here resort ; 

Eyen our good chaplain, as I ween, 

Since our last siege we haye not seen: 10 

The mass he might not sing or say 

Upon one stinted meal a-day ; 

So, safe he sat in Durham aisle. 

And pray'd for our success the while. 

Our Nor ham yicar, wgebetide, is 

Is all too welHn caseiiorme'; 

The priest of Shoreswood-^he could rein 

The wildest war-horse in your train; 



CANTO FIRST 85 

But then, no spearman in the hall 
80 Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. 

Friar John of Tillmouth were the man : 

A blithesome brother at the can, 

A welcome guest in hall and bower. 

He knows each castle, town, and tower, 
25 In which the wine and ale is good, 

'Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Eood. 

But that good man, as ill befalls, 

Hath seldom left our castle walls. 

Since, on the Vigil of Saint Bede, 
30 In evil hour he cross 'd the Tweed, 

To teach Dame Alison her creed. 

Old Bughtrig found him with his wife ; 

And John, an enemy to strife. 

Sans frock and hood, fled for his life. 
35 The jealous churl hath deeply swore 

That, if again he venture o'er. 

He shall shrieve penitent no more. 

Little he loves such risks, I know; 

Yet in your guard perchance will go.'' 



XXII 

Young Selby, at the fair hall-board. 
Carved to his uncle and that lord. 
And reverently took up the word. — 
"Kind uncle, woe were we each one, 
5 If harm should hap to brother John. 
He is a man of mirthful speech, 
Can many a game and gambol teach ; 




86 MARMION 

Full well at tables can lie play, 

And sweep at bowls the stake away. 

None can a lustier carol bawl, lo 

The needfulest among us all. 

When time hangs heavy in the hall, 

And snow somes thick at Christmas tide, 

And we can neither hunt, nor ride 

A foray on the Scottish side. 15 

The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude, 

May end in worse than loss of hood. 

Let Friar John in safety still 

In chimney-corner snore his fill, 

Eoast hissing crabs, or flagons swill : 20 

Last night, to Nor ham there came one, 

Will better guide Lord Marmion." — 

''Nephew," quoth Heron, ''by my fay, 

Well hast thou spoke; say forth thy say. '' — 

"Here is a holy Palm^^me, ^V^ i {fiW^ 

From Salefti first, am^tast from Eome : "^ "^ '^' n 

One that hath kiss'd the blessed tomb. 

And visited each holy shrine ^« 

In Araby and Palestine; ^ "li^^^ ^ 5 

On hills of Armenia hiath been, 

Where Noah 's ark may yet be seen ; 

By that Red Sea, too, hath hei^^(^y%y^ 

Which parted at the prophet's ro^;' 

In Sinai's wilderness he saw >\«/Ui^ 10 

The mount where Israel heard the law, 



CANTO FIRST jLj^jJI^ 

'Mid thunder -dint, and flashing levin, 9 
And shadows, mists, and darkness, given. 
He shows Saint ^ar^es's cockle-shell; 
15 Of fair Monts^frlft^'tbo, can tell; 

And of that Grot where Olives nod, 
Where, darling of each heart and eye. 
From all the youth of Sicily, 
Saint Eosalie retired to God. 

XXIV 

''To stout Saint George of Norwich merry, 

Saint Thom|s^ tgo, of Canterbury, ^^^.. 

Cuthbert of Durham intfl#^*^de, 

For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd. 
6 He knows the passes of the North, 

And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth ; 

Little he eats, and long will wake. 

And drinks but of the stream or lake. 

This were a guide o'er moor and dale; 
10 But, when our John hath quaff'd his ale, 

As little as the wind that blows, 

And warms itself against his nose. 

Kens he, or cares, which way he goes." — 

XXV 

''Gramercy!" quoth Lord Marmion, 
"Full loath were I, that Friar John, 
That venerable man, for me 
Were placed in fear or jeopardy. 



88 MARMION 

If this same Palmer will me lead 6 

From hence to Holy-Rood, 
Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed, 
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead. 
With angels fair and good. 

I love such holy ramblers; still lo 

They know to charm a weary hill 

With song, romance, or lay : 
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest, 
Some lying legend, at the least, 

They bring to cheer the way." — 15 

XXVI 

*'Ah! noble sir," young Selby said, 

And finger on his lip he laid, 

'^This man knows much — perchance e'en more 

Than he could learn by holy lore. 

Still to himself he's muttering, 5 

And shrinks as at some unseen thing. 

Last night we listen'd at his cell ; 

Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell, 

He murmur'd on till morn, howe'er 

No living mortal could be near. i© 

Sometimes I thought I heard it plain, 

As other voices spoke again. 

I cannot tell — I like it not — 

Friar John hath told us it is wrote, 

No conscience clear and void of wrong is 

Can rest awake and pray so long. 



CANTO FIRST 89 

Himself still sleeps before his beads 
Have mark'd ten aves and two creeds." — 

XXVII 

"Let pass," quoth Marmion; "by my fay, 

This man shall guide me on my way, 

Although the great arch-fiend and he 

Had sworn themselves of company. 
5 So please you, gentle youth, to call 

This Palmer to the Castle-hall." 

The summoned Palmer came in place; 

His sable cowl o'er hung his face; 

In his black mantle was he clad, 
10 With Peter's keys, in cloth of red. 
On his broad shoulders wrought ; 

The scallop-shell his cap did deck ; 

The crucifix around his neck 
Was from Loretto brought ; 
15 His sandjfewj^e^^jjtk t^*M^tQ[fn^ '^^jLAAJi^ .^^^'i'V^ 

Staff, buogetfrottj^^cp^ 

The faded palm-branch in his hai 

Show'd pilgrim from the Holy Land. 

XXVIII 

When as the Palmer came in hall, 
Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall, 
Or had a statelier step withal, 
Or look'd more high and keen; 
5 For no saluting did he wait, 
But strode across the hall of state. 




A 




90 AaRMION 

And fronted MarflMfen where he sate, 

As he his peer\had been. 
But his gannt frame was worn with toil ; 
His cheek was sunk, alas the while ! lo 

And when he struggled at a smile, 

His eye look'd haggard wild: 
Poor wretch ! the mother that him bare, 
If she had been in presence there, 
In his wan face and sun-burn 'd hair, 16 

^,.^,She had not known her child. 
^ Danger, long travel, want, or woe, 

Soon change the form that best we know— 
For deadly fear can time outgo, 
t i And blanch at once the hair ; 20 

/ Hard toil can roughen form and face. 

And want can quench the eye's bright gi'ace, 
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace 
X„More deeply than despair .^k/ 

Happy whom none of th^ befall, 25 

But this poor Palmer knew them ^ 



XXIX >.; 



Lord Marmion then his boon did ask ; 
The Palmer took on him the task, 
So he would march with morning tide, 
To Scottish court to be his guide. 
''But I have solemn vows to pay, 
And may not linger by the way. 
To fair Saint Andrews bound. 
Within the ocean-cave to pray, 



CANTO FIRST 91 

Where good Saint Rule his holy lay, 
10 From midnight to the dawn of day, 
Sung to the billows' sound: 
Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well. 
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, 
And the crazed brain restore ; 
15 Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring 
Gould back to peace my bosom bring, 
Or bid it throb no more!" 

XXX 

And now the midnight draught of sleep. 
Where wine and spices richly steep. 
In massive bowl of silver deep, 

The page presents on knee. 
5 Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest. 
The Captain pledged his noble guest. 
The cup went through among the rest. 

Who drained it merrily; 
Alone the Palmer pass'd it by, 
10 Though Selby press 'd him courteously. 
This was a sign the f^^^^Wi^'JfJ a 
It hush'd the merry wass^rol^ "^ \ 

The minstrels ceased to sound. 
Soon in the castle nought was heard 
15 But the slow footstep of the guard 

Pacing his sober round. 

XXXI 

With early dawn Lord Marmion rose : 
And first the chapel doors unclose ; 



,ntial repast, 

's bugles blew to hu)rse: I a LaaM^ 



92 MARMION 

Then, after morning rites were done, 

(A hasty mass from Friar John,) 

And knight and squire had broke their fast, 

On rich substantial repast. 

Lord Marmion 

Then came the 

Between the Baron and his host, 

No point of courtesy was lost; lo 

High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, 

Solemn excuse the Captain made. 

Till, filing from the gate, had pass'd 

That noble train, their Lord the last. 

Then loudly rung the trumpet call ; is 

Thunder 'd the cannon from the wall 

And shook the Scottish shore : 
Around the castle eddied slow, 
Volumes of smoke as white as snow, 

And hid its turrets hoar ; 30 

Till they roU'd forth upon the air, 
And met the river breezes there. 
Which gave again the prospect fair. 



I 





INTEODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND 

TO THE KEV. JOHN MAEKIOTT, A.M. 

Ashestiel^ Ettrich Forest 



The scenes are desert now, and bare, y / /h^ 

Where flourish'd once a forest fair ^^X/-'^ u^^^^f^^ .1^ ^ 

When these waste glens with copse were lined, "^ 

And peopled with the hart and hind. 
5 Yon Thorn — perchance whose prickly spears O ^ 

Have fenced him for three hundred years, 

While fell around his green compeers — 

Yon lonely Thorn, would he could tell 

The changes of his parent dell, 
10 Since he, so grey and stubborn now, 

Waved in each breeze a sapling bough ; 

Would he could tell how deep the shade 

A thousand mingled branches made ; 

How broad the shadows of the oak, 
15 How clung the rowan to the rock, 

And through the foliage show'd his head, 

With narrow leaves and berries red ; 

What pines on every mountain sprung, 

O'er every dell what birches hung, 
20 In every breeze what aspens shook. 

What alders shaded every brook ! 

93 



94 MARMION 

"Here, in my shade," methinks he'd say, 

''The mighty stag at noon- tide lay: 

The wolf I Ve seen, a fiercer game, 

(The neighbouring dingle bears his name,) 25 

With lurching step around me prowl, 

And stop, against the moon to howl; 

The mountain-boar, on battle set, 

His tusks upon my stem would whet ; 

While doe, and roe, and red-deer good, so 

Have bounded by through gay greenwood. 

Then oft from Newark's riven tower 

Sallied a Scottish monarch's power: 

A thousand vassals muster 'd round. 

With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound; ^^ 

And I might see the youth intent 

Guard every pass with crossbow bent ; 

And through the brake the rangers stalk, 

And falc'ners hold the ready hawk; 

And foresters, in greenwood trim, 40 

Lead in the leash the gazehounds grim, 

Attentive, as the bratchet's bay 

From the dark covert drove the prey, 

To slip them as he broke away. 

The startled quarry bounds amain, 45 

As fast the gallant greyhounds strain ; 

Whistles the arrow from the bow. 

Answers the harquebuss below ; 

While all the rocking hills reply 

To hoof -clang, hound, and hunters' cry, so 

And bugles ringing lights omely. " 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND 95 



II 

Of such proud huntings many tales 

Yet linger in our lonely dales, "f^ aj%^^ 

Up pathless Ettrick and on Yarrow, r ^'^ 

Where erst the outlaw drew his arrow. 
5 But not more blithe that silvan court, 

Than we have been at humbler sport ; 

Though small our pomp and mean our game, 

Our mirth, dear Marriott, was the same. 

Kemember'st thou my greyhounds true? 
10 'er holt or hill there never flew, 

From slip or leash there never sprang, 

More fleet of foot, or sure of fang. 

Nor dull, between each merry chase, 

Pass'd by the intermitted space; 
15 For we had fair resource in store, 

In Classic and in Gothic lore : 

We maxk'd each memorable scene, 

And held poetic talk between; ^« 

Nor hill, nor brook, we paced along, W*^ 

20 But had its legend or its song. 



All silent now — for now are still v-., -^#v\ 
Thy bowers, untenanted Bowhill! ^^ 2v ^ ^^ 
NTo longer from thy mountains dun. 
The yeoman hears the well-known gun, 
25 And while his honest heart glows warm 
At thought of his paternal farm, 
Round to his mates a brimmer fills. 
And drinks, "The Chieftain of the Hills!" 



.^ 



96 MAEMION ^r y>'^* 







No fairy forms, in Yarrow's bowers ^ # \ ^ "/^ 

Trip o'er the walks, or tend the flowers^ ^/V'^I^A -P 

Fair as the elves whom Janet saw 

By moonlight dance on Carterhaugh ; 

No youthful Baron's left to grace 

The Forest-Sheriff's lonely chase, 

And ape, in manly step and tone, 

The majesty of Oberon : V^aA-M^ 

And she is gone whose lovely faqp 

Is but her least and lowest grace ; 

Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere given, 

To show our earth the charms of Heaven, 40 

She could not glide along the air, 

With form more light, or face more fair. 

No more the widow 's deafen 'd ear 

Grows quick that lady's step to hear: 

At noontide she expects her not, .46 

Nor busies her to trim the cot : 

Pensive she turns her humming-wheel. 

Or pensive cooks her orphans ' meal ; 

Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread. 

The gentle hand by which they 're fed. so 

III 

From Yair, — which hills so closely bind, 
Scarce can the Tweed his passage find. 
Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil. 
Till all his eddying currents boil, — 
Her long-descended lord is gone, 5 

And left us by the stream alone. 




INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND 97 

And much I miss those sportive boys, 
^ Companions of my mountain joys, 

Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, 
10 When thought is speech, and speech is truth. 

Close to my side with what delight r-v. , , 

They press 'd to hear of Wallace wights. J/^ir 

When, pointing to his airy mound, 

I call'd his ramparts holy ground! yJ/i^tM^^'f^'^ 

15 Kindled their brows to hear me speak ; WyUtJ^^^^ 

And I have smiled, to feel my cheek, f ^ ^ 

Despite the difference of our years, '^' * 

Return again the glow of theirs. f ^ 

Ah, happy boys ! such feelings pure, 
20 They will not, cannot, long endure; 

Oondemn'd to stem the world's rude tide, 

You may not linger by the side ; 

For Fate shall thrust you from the shore, 

And Passion ply the sail and oar. 
25 Yet cherish the remembrance still 

Of the lone mountain, and the rill ; 

For trust, dear boys, the time will come. 

When fiercer transport shall be dumb, 

And you will think right frequently, 
30 But, well, I hope, without a sigh. 

On the free hours that we have spent 

Together, on the brown hill's bent. 

IV 

When, musing on companions gone, 
We doubly feel ourselves alone. 



98 MARMION 

Something, my friend, we yet may gain ; 

There is a pleasure in this pain : 

It soothes the love of lonely rest, 5 

Deep in each gentler heart impress 'd. 

'Tis silent amid worldly toils. 

And stifled soon by mental broils ; 

But in a bosom thus prepared. 

Its still small voice is often heard, 10 

Whispering a mingled sentiment, 

'Twixt resignation and content. 

Oft in my mind such thoughts awake 

By lone Saint Mary 's silent lake ; 

Thou know 'st it well, — nor fen, nor sedge, 15 

Pollute the prn^e lake 's crystal edge ; 

Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink 

At once upon the level brink ; 

And just a trace of silver sand 

Marks where the water meets the land. 20 

Far in the mirror, bright and blue, 

Each hill's huge outline you may view; 

Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare, 

Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake is there, • 

Save where, of land, yon slender line 25 

Bears thwart the lake the scattered pine. 

Yet even this nakedness has power, 

And aids the feeling of the hour : 

Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy. 

Where living thing concealed might lie ; 30 

Nor point, retiring, hides a dell 

Where swain, or woodman lone, might dwell ; 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND 99 

There's nothing left to fancy's guess, 

You see that all is loneliness : 
35 And silence aids — ^though the steep hills 

Send to the lake a thousand rills ; 

In summer tide, so soft they weep, 

The sound but lulls the ear asleep ; 

Your horse's hoof -tread sounds too rude, 
40 So stilly is the solitude. 



Nought living meets the eye or ear, 
But well I ween the dead are near ; 
For though, in feudal strife, a foe 
Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low, 
5 Yet still, beneath the hallow'd soil. 
The peasant rests him from his toil, 
And, dying, bids his bones be laid 
Where erst his simple fathers pray'd. 

VI 

If age had tamed the passions' strife, 
And Fate had cut my ties to life, U ^ 

Here have I thought 'twere sweet to dwell, 
And rear again the chaplain's cell, > y j ^ :f 

5 Like that same peaceful hermitage, , . /^- :" 
Where Milton long'd to spend his age. y 

'Twere sweet to mark the setting day. 
On Bourhope's lonely top decay; 
And, as it faint and feeble died 



)/ 



100 MABMION 

On the broad lake, and mountain's side, 

To say, "Thus pleasures fade away; 

Youth, talents, beauty, thus decay, j^ . 

And leave us dark, forlorn, and grey;"^^ iJ' 

Then gaze on Dryhope's ruin'd tower,' Y 

And think on Yarrow's faded Flower: 15 

And when that mountain-sound I heard, 

Which bids us be for storm prepared. 

The distant rustling of his wings, 

As up his force the Tempest brings, 

'Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors rave, 20 

To sit upon the Wizard's grave — 

That Wizard-Priest's whose bones are thrust 

From company of holy dust ; 

On which no sunbeam ever shines — 

(So superstition's creed divines) — 25 

Thence view the lake with sullen roar, 

Heave her broad billows to the shore ; 

And mark the wild swans mount the gale. 

Spread wide through mist their snowy sail, 

And ever stoop again, to lave 30 

Their bosoms on the sm-ging wave : 

Then, when against the driving hail 

No longer might my plaid avail. 

Back to my lonely home retire, 

And light my lamp, and trim my fire; 35 

There ponder o'er some mystic lay, 

Till the wild tale had all its sway. 

And, in the bittern's distant shriek, 

I heard unearthly voices speak. 



/]/ ^ INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND 101 

40 And thought the Wizard- Priest was come, 
To claim again his ancient home ! 
And bade my busy fancy range, 
To frame him fitting shape and strange, 
Till from the task my brow I clear 'd, 

45 And smiled to think that I had fear'd. 

VII 

But chief, 'twere sweet to think such life, 
(Though but escape from fortune's strife,) 
Something most matchless good and wise, 
A great and grateful sacrifice ; 
5 And deem each hour to musing given, 
A step upon the road to heaven. 



VIII 

Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease. 

Such peaceful solitudes displease ; 

He loves to drown his bosom's jar 

Amid the elemental war : 
5 And my black Palmer's choice had been 

Some ruder and more savage scene. 

Like that which frowns round dark Loch-skene 

There eagles scream from isle to shore ; 

Down all the rocks the torrents roar ; 
10 O'er the black waves incessant driven. 

Dark mists infect the summer heaven ; 

Through the rude barriers of the lake. 

Away its hurrying waters break. 




102 MAEMIOX 

Faster and whiter da^li and curl. 

Till down yon dai'k abyss they hurl. 15 

Eises the fog-smoke white as snow, 

Thunders the viewless stream below, 

Diving, as if condemn'd to lave 

Some demon's subterranean cave, 

Who, prison'd by enchanter's spell. 20 

Shakes the dark rock with groan and yeU. 

And weU that Palmer *s form and mien 

Had suited with the stormy scene. 

Just on the edge, straining his ken 

To view the bottom of the den, 25 

Where, deep deep down, and far wirhin, 

Toils with the rocks the roaring linn ; 

Then, issuing forth one foamy wave. 

And wheeling round the Giant's Grave, 

White as the snowy chai'ger's tail, 3o 

Drives down the pass of Moffatdale. ^ . 

Marriott, thy harp, on Isis Strang. 
To many a Border theme has rung: 
Then list to me, and thou shalt know 
Of this mysterious Man of Woe. 



) 






CANTO SECOND 

The Convent 



The breeze which swept away the smoke 

Eound Nor ham Castle roll'd, 
When all the loud artillery spoke, 
With lightning-flash and thunder-stroke, 
5 As Marmion left the Hold. 
It curl'd not Tweed alone, that breeze, 
For, far upon Northumbrian seas, t 

It freshly blew, and strong, ^-|,|44^^M^^M^'^ '.\ 
Where, from high Whitby's cloistej^'d ^e, y. ij 
10 Bound to Saint Cuthbert's'Holy Isle, , ^ 

It bore a bark along. 
Upon the gale she stoop 'd her side. 
And bounded o'er the swelling tide, A.^ ^"f^^^xAjuO 

As she were dancing home ; i tj , // 

15 The merry seamen laugh'd, to app \m\^^ 

Their gallant ship so lustily ^Ar^^^^^^j 

Furrow the green sea-foam. ^ 

2Q Much joy'd they in their honour 'd freight; 
For, on the deck, in chair of state, 
The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed, 
With five fair nuns, the galley graced. 

103 



104 MAEMION 



II 



5 



^Twas sweet to see these holy maids, 
Like birds escaped to greenwood shades, 

Their first flight from the cage. 
How timid, and how curious too, 
For all to them was strange and new, a/^ 

And all the common sights they view, \ll) 

Their wonderment engage. f 

One eyed the shrouds and swelling sail, ^^v / C^ifAJ 

With many a benedicite; y\jCu^ l^LyhS^^^^ 
One at the rippling surge grew pale, . ' lo 

And would for terror pray ; \i--^:x,.X--..>'^ 
Then shriek 'd, because the sea-dog, nigh. 
His round black head and sparkling eye 

Kear'd o'er the f oamiag^^iM^ ; ^ 
And one would snirM5uBlr*1ier |reil, 15 

Disorder 'd by the summer gale. 
Perchance lest some more worldly eye 
Her dedicated charms might spy ; 
Perchance, because such action graced 
Her fair -turn 'd arm and slender waist. 20 

Light was each simple bosom there, 
Save two, who ill might pleasure share, — 
The Abbess and the Novice Clare. 

Ill 

The Abbess was of noble blood, 
But early took the veil and hood, 
Ere upon life she cast a look. 



CANTO SECOND 105 

Or knew the world that she forsook. 
5 Fair too she was, and kind had been 

As she was fair, but ne'er had seen 

For her a timid lover sigh, 

Nor knew the influence of her eye. 

Love to her ear was but a name, 
10 Combined with vanity and shame ; 

Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all 

Bounded within the cloister wall : 

The deadliest sin her mind could reach, 

Was of monastic rule the breach ; 
15 And her ambition's highest aim 

To emulate Saint Hilda's fame. 

For this she gave her ample dower 

To raise the convent's eastern tower; 

For this, with carving rare and quaint, 
20 She deck'd the chapel of the saint. 

And gave the relic -shrine of cost. 

With ivory and gems emboss 'd. 

The poor her Convent's bounty blest, 

The pilgrim in its halls found rest. 

IV 

Black was her garb, her rigid rule 
Eeform'd on Benedictine school; 
Her cheek was pale, her form was spare; 
Vigils and penitence^ austere ^M^^ ** 
5 Had early qi^gtf^dlM^ight of youth, A ^ 

But gentle was the dame, in sooth; &&JW^^ J/iiAA 
Though, vain of her religious sway, (I 



106 MARMION 

She loved to see her maids obey. 

Yet nothing stern was she in cell, 

And the nuns loved their Abbess well. lo 

Sad was this voyage to the dame ; 

Summon'd to Lindisfarne, she came, 

There, with Saint Cnthbert's Abbot old 
J^ And Tynemouth's PxieS'ess, to hold 
' " I A chapter of^Sain^^Qnedict, is 

^ For inquisition stern and strict^ TlT 

On two apostates from the faith, 
^ And, if need were,\i^ doom to death. 

r^ Nought say I here of Sister Clare, 

Save this, that she was young and fair; 
As yet, a novice unprofess'd. 
Lovely and gentle, but distress 'd. 
She was betroth'd to one now dead, 
Or worse, who had dishonour 'd fled. 
Her kinsmen bade her give her hand 
To one, who loved her for her land : 
Herself, almost heart-broken now, \f%i^^£ 
Was bent to take the vestal vow. 
And shroud within Saint Hilda's gloo 
Her blasted hopes and withered bloom 



V 



rf^- 



VI 

She sate upon the galley's prow, 
And seeni'd to mark the waves below; 



CANTO SECOND 107 

Nay, seem'd, so fix'd her look and eye, 

To count them as they glided by. 
5 She saw them not — 'twas seeming all — 

Far other scene her thoughts recall, — 

A sun-scorch'd desert, waste and bare, 

Nor waves, nor breezes, murmur 'd there; 

There saw she, where some careless hand 
10 O'er a dead corpse had heap'd the sand, 

To hide it till the jackals come 

To tear it from the scanty tomb. — 

See what a woful look was given, 

As she raised up her eyes to heaven ! 



VII 

^ / Lovely, and gentle, and distressed — ^ 

O \Jhese charms might tame the fiercest br^gjst/ 
Harpers have sung and poets told 
That he, in fury uncontroU'd, 
5 The shaggy monarch of the wood, 
Before a virgin fair and good, ^. | 

Hath pacified his savage mood. ^ 

But passions in the human frame 7 4 % 

Oft put the lion's rage to shame : g ..; ^'^ " ^V ^ 
10 And jealousy, by dark intrigue, *' /*" 
With sordid avarice in league, 
Had practised with their bowl and knife. 
Against the mourner's harmless life. 
This crime was charged 'gainst those who lay 
15 Prisou'd in Cuthbert's islet grey. 



I <♦ k 




'WW- 



y 



108 MAEMION 



VIII 



And now the vessel skirts the Strang? 

Of mountainous Northumberland ; 

Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise, 
,«v And c^t^hjthe nuns' delighted eyes. 
'^^Vh^^Sifmouth sc 



jy^' 



i^'k 



oas . 



soon behind them lay, 
And Tynetnouth's priory and bay; 
They mark'd,\amid her trees, the hall pj i 
Of lofty Seaton-DelaTal ; ^ ' . ' V #^^^^^*^ 
They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods 
Rush to the sea through sounding woods 
They pass'd the tower of Widderington, 
Mother .pf inany a valiant son ; 
At Coquet" isteTheir beads they tell 
To the good Saint* who own'd the cell; 
Then did ^e AlM' attention claim, is 

And Warkwbrth, proud of Percy's name; 
And next, they cross 'd themselves, to hear 
The whitening breakers sound so near. 
Where, boiling thrpug^ the rocks, they roar 

'd they there, 
King Ida's castle, huge and square, 
From its tall rock look grimly down, 
And on the swelling ocean frown ; 
Then from the coast they bore away, 25 

And reach 'd the Holy Island's 




'■^^^ 



The tide did now its flood-mark gain, 




CANTO SECOND 109 

And girdled in the Saint's domain: 
For, with the flow and ebb, its style 
Varies from continent to isle ; 
5 Dry-shod, o'er sands, twice every day, 
The pilgrims to the^ shrine find way ; 

efface 

the trace. 
As to the^ort the galley flew, 
10 Higher and higher rose to view 
The Castle, with its battled walls, 
The ancient Monastery's halls, 
A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile, 
Placed on the margin of the isle. 



In Saxon strength that Abbey frown'd. 
With massive arches broad and round. 
That josealternate, row and row. 
On poWa^i3^columns, short and low, 
5 Built ere me art was known. 

By pointed aisle and shafted stalk, 
The arcades of an alley 'd walk • ^ . * . 
To emulate in stone. 
On the deep walls, the heathen Dane 
10 Had pour'd his impious rage in vain; 
And needful was such strength to these. 
Exposed to the tempestuous seas. 
Scourged by the winds' eternal sway. 
Open to rovers fierce as they, 
15 Which could twelve hundred years witlistand 



110 MARMION , vUX) '^ 

Winds, waves, and northern pirates' hand. 

Not bnt that portions of the pile, 

Eebuilded in a later style, 

Show'd where the spoiler's hand had been; 

Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen 20 

Had worn the pillar's carving quaint, 

And moulder 'd in his niche the saint, 

And rounded with consuming power 

The pointed angles of each tower ;. 
/Yet still entire the Abbey stood, \ 25 

j Like voter aiL, worn, but unsubduety 

^ Soon as they nda^'d his turrets strong, 
The maidens raided Saint Hilda's song, 
And with the sea- wave and the wind 
Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined, 

And made harmonious close ; s 

Then, answering from the sandy shore, 
Half drown' d amid the breakers' roar, 

According chorus rose : 
Down to the haven of the Isle, 
The monks and nuns in order file, 10 

From Cuthbert's cloisters grim; 
Banner, and cross, and relics there. 
To meet Saint Hilda's maids, they bare; 
And, as they caught the sounds on air, 

They echoed back the hymn. 15 

The islanders in joyous mood 
Eush'd emulously through the flood, 



( 



CANTO SECOND 

To hale the bark to land ; 
Conspicuous by her veil and hood, 
20 Signing the cross, the Abbess stood, 
And bless 'd them with her hand. 

XII 

Suppose we now the welcome said, 
Suppose the Convent banquet made : 

All through the holy dome, 
Through cloister, aisle, and gallery, 

5 Wherever vestal maid might pry, 
Nor risk to meet unhallow'd eye. 

The stranger sisters roam : 
Till fell the evening damp with dew, 
And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew, 

10 For there, even summer night is chill. 
Then, having stray'd and gazed their fill. 

They closed around the fire ; 
And all, in turn, essay'd to paint 
The rivil ^merits of their saint, 

15 A^'lft^'^at ne'er can tire 
A holy maid; for, be it known, 
That their saint's honour is their own. 

XIII 

Then Whitby 'a nuns exulting told 
How to their house three Barons bold 

Must menial service do ; 
While horns blow out a note of shame. 



^x^ 



112 MARMION 

And monks cry **Fye upon your name! 5 

In wrath, for loss of silvan game, 

Saint Hilda's priest ye s^^^-f/T^/a^lA^ 
"This, on Ascension-daj^ eailn year. 
While labouring on our harbour-pier, 
Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear. " — ia./\ 

They told, hov^ in their convent cell ^ iii/ % jU 
A Saxon princess once did dwell, I c^UJ^ nvn. 

The lovely Edelfled. tf^^^^AM 

And how, of thousand snakes, each one 
Was changed into a coil of stone 

W^hen holy Hilda pray'd; 
Themselves, within their holy bound. 
Their stony folds had often found. 
They told how sea-fowls' pinions fail. 
As over Whitby's towers they sail, 20 

And, sinking down, with flutterings faint, 
They do their homage to the saint. ^ 




^(. 



XIV 

L 

Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail, , J^ 

To vie with these in holy tale ; ^ 

His body's resting-place, of old, '^ 

How oft their patron changed, they told; 

How, when the rude Dane burn'd their pile. 

The monks fled forth from Holy Isle ; 

O'er northern mountain, marsh, and moor, 

From sea to sea, from shore to shore, 

Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse th|fY\box;e. 

They rested them in fair Melrose ;o^^^ 10 




J 



CANTO SECOND 113 

But though, alive, he loved it well, 
Not there his relics might repose ; 

For, wondrous tale to tell ! 
In his stone coffin forth he rides 
15 A ponderous bark for river tides, 
Yet light as gossamer it glides 

Downward to Tilmouth cell. 
Nor long was his abiding there, 
For southward did the saint repair ; ^ 
20 Chest er --le- Street and Eippgn saw *, , / /^ ^ ,j 
His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw 

Hail'd him with joy and fear; 
And, after many wanderings past. 
He chose his lordly seat at last, 
25 Where his cathedral, huge and vast. 

Looks down upon the Wear : ^^y^"^^ '' '"'^ 
There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, 
His relics are in secret laid ; 

But none may know the place, 
30 Save of his holiest servants three. 
Deep sworn to solemn secrecy. 

Who share that wondrous grace. 

Who may his miracles declare ! . ^ ^ij^^"^^^ -^ 
Even Scotland's dauntless kin^and heir 
(Although with them they led 
--. .j ^alwe^iang , wild as ocean's gale, 
^ And ijodon's knights, all sheathed in mail, 
And the bold men of Teviotdale,^ 






114 MARMION 

Before his standard fled. 
'Twas he, to vindicate his reigij,, ^,^^4 , » ^^-^^^^'^'M^ 

Edged Alfred's falchion on the Dane, 4 

And turn'd the Conqueror back again, ; I ^<| 10 

When, with his Norman bowySf hand^ ^ ■ ,^'"f 
He came to waste Northumberland. ' / ^ ^ 

XVI 

But fain Saint Hilda's nuns would learn 

If, on a rock by Lindisfarne, 

Saint Outhbert sits, and toils to frame 

The sea-born beads that bear his name : 
J Such tales had Whitby's fishers told, 5 

/f And said they might his shape behold, 
. ^ And hear his anvil sound ; 
M A deaden 'd clang, — a huge dim form, 

\Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm 
""^ And night were closing round. 10 

But this, as tale of idle fame. 

The nuns of Lindisfarne disclaim. ;S '.' i\ 

i. 

XVII (j 

While round the fire such legends'go, ^ 
Far different was the scene of woe. 
Where, in a secret aisle beneath. 
Council was held of life and death. 

It was more dark and lone, that vault, a 

Than the worst dungeon cell : ^ . ^ ^. 
Old Colwulf built it, for his fault, ■' " ' 
In penitence to dwell, 



CANTO SECOND 115 

When he, for cowl and beads, laid down 
10 The Saxon battle-axe and crown. 
This den, which, chilling every sense 

Of feeling, hearing, sight. 
Was call 'd the Yanlt of Penitence, 

Excluding air and light, 
15 Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made 
A place of burial for such dead. 
As, having died in mortal sin. 
Might not be laid the church within. 
'Twas now a place of punishment ; 
20 Whence if so loud a shriek were sent, 

As reach 'd the upper ah'. 
The hearers bless 'd themselves, and said. 
The spirits of the sinful dead 

Bemoan'd their torments there. 

XVIII 

But though, in the monastic pile. 
Did of this penitential aisle 

Some vague tradition go. 
Few only, save the Abbot, knew 
5 Where the place lay ; and still more few 
Were those who had from him the clew 

To that dread vault to go. 
Victim and executioner 
Were blindfold when transported there. 
10 In low dark rounds the arches hung. 
From the rude rock the side-walls sprung ; 
The grave-stones, rudely sculptm^ed o'er, 




116 MARMION 

Half snnk in earth, by time half wore, 
Were all the payement of the floor ; 
The mildew-drops fell one by one, i5 

With tinkling plash, upon the stone. 
A cresset, in an iron chain, 
Which served to light this drear domain, 
f^ With damp and dai'kness seem'd to strive, 

As if it scarce might keep alive; 20 

And yet it dimly served to show 
The awful conclave met below* 

XIX 

There, met to doom in secrecy, 

Were placed the heads of convents three : 

All servants of Saint Benedict, 

The statutes or whose order strict 

On iron table lay ; 5 

In long black dress, on seats of stone. 
Behind were these three judges shown 

By the pale cresset's ray: 
The Abbess of Saint Hilda's there 
Sat for a space with visage bare, 10 

Until, to hide her bosom's swell. 
And tear-drops that for pity fell, 

She closely drew her veil : 
Yon shrouded figure^ as^ J^ guess. 
By her proud mien ahd'fliowmg dress, 15 

Is Tynemouth's haughty Prioress, 

And she with awe looks pale : 
And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight 



CANTO BECON»— , 117 

1^ '^.•^"V H;»-A^ 



Has long ^een quenched by age's night, 
20 Upon whos§ wrinkled brow alone, 
Nor r^tti, ior mercy's trace, is shown, 



Whose look is hard and stern, — 
Saint Cuthbert's Abbot is his style; 
For sanctity call 'd, through the isle, 
25 The Saint of Lindisfarne. 



XX 



Before them stood a guilty pair ; 
But, though an equal fate they share, ..-.^ 

Yet one alone deserves our care. n j^UcA^l/^ 
Her sex a page's dress belied; \f\M.A^^^-^^^^^ 
5 The cloak and doublet, loosely tied. 
Obscured her charms, but could not hide. 
Her cap down o'er her fece s%e drew; 

And, on her doublel4^^^^ ^"■ 
She tried to hide the badge of blue, 
10 Lord Marmion's falcon crest. 

But, at the Prioress' command, 
A monk undid the silver band. 

That tied her tresses fair. 
And raised the bonnet from her head, 
15 And down her slender form they spread 
In ringlets rich and rare. 
Constance de Beverley they know, 
Sister profess 'd of Fontevraud, 
Whom the church number 'd with the dead, 
20 For broken vows, and convent fled. 



S/M^^ 



118 MARMION 



XXI 




i 



When thus her face was given to view, 
(Although so pallid was her hue, 
It did a ghastly contrast bear 
To those bright ringlets glistering fair,) 
Her look composed, and steady eye, 5 

Bespoke a matchless constancy ; 
And there she stood so calm and pale. 
That, but her breathing did not fail. 
And motion slight of eye and head. 
And of her bosom, warranted 10 

Tfcat neither sense nor pulse she lacks, 
You might have thought a form of wax, 
//Wrought to the very life, was there: 
So still she was, so pale, so fair. 

Her comrade was a s^)mi& soul. 

Such as does murder for a meed : A/A^/^'^*'^ 
Who, but of fear, knows no control/ ' *^ y 
Because his conscieiice, s^ar'cl and foul, 

Feels not the import of his deed ; 5 

One whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires 
Beyond his own more brute depu-gs, ^ 
Such tools the Tempter ever^^^eeds, ' 
To do the savagest of deeds ; 

For them no vision 'd terrors daunt, 10 

Their nights no fancied spectres haunt, 
One fear with them, of all most base, 



CANTO SECOND 119 

The fear of death, — alone finds place. 
This wretch was clad in frock and cowl, 
15 And shamed not loud to moan and howl. 
His body on the floor to dash, 
And crouch, like hound beneath the lash ; 
While his mute partner, standing near. 
Waited her doom without a tear. 

XXIII 

Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek, 

Well might her paleness terror speak ! 

For there were seen in that dark wall, 

Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall; — 
5 Who enters at such grisly door. 

Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more. 

In each a slender meal was laid. 

Of roots, of water, and of bread: 

By each, in Benedictine dress, 
10 Two haggard monks stood motionless ; 

Who, holding high a blazing torch, 

Show'd the grim entrance of the porch: 

Kefiecting back the smoky beam, 

The dark-red walls and arches gleam. 
15 Hewn stones and cement were display 'd. 

And building tools in order laid. 

XXIV 

These executioners were chose. 

As men who were with mankind foes. 



120 MARMION 

And with despite and envy fired, 
Into the cloister had retired ; 

Or who, in desperate doubt of grace, 5 

Strove, by deep penance, to efface 
Of some foul^crime the staii^- 

For, as the vassals' or Ker^vm^^' 

Such men the Church selected still. 

As either joy'd in doing ill, 10 

Or thought more grace to gain, 
If, in her cause, they wrestled down 
Feelings their nature strove to own. 
By strange device were they brought there, 
They knew not how, and knew not where. is 

XXV 

And now that blind old Abbot rose, 

To speak the Chapter's doom. 
On those the wall was to enclose. 

Alive, within the tomb; ^^ 

But stopp 'd, because that wof ul Maid, \ \v\ 5 

Gathering her powers, to speak essay'd. ' I 
Twice she essay'd, and twice in vain; 
Her accents might no utterance gain ; 
Nought but imperfect murmurs slip 
From her convulsed and quivering lip; 10 

'Twixt each attempt all was so still, 

You seem'd to hear a distant rill, — 
'Twas ocean's swells and falls ; 

For though this vault of sin and fear 

Was to the sounding surge so near, is 



CANTO SECOND 121 

A tempest there you scarce could hear. 
So massive were the walls. 

XXVI 

At length an effort sent apart 
The blood that curdled to her heart, 
And light came to her eye, 
J Aji^ colour dawn'd upon her cheek, f 

't^v A. neCTic'and a flutter 'd ^odk^^^^^yy^^xX^iAA if/ . ^'^. 
Like that left on the Cheviot peak 

By Autumn's stormy sky; 
And when her silence broke at length. 
Still as she spoke she gather 'd strength, 
10 And arm'd herself to bear. 

It was a fearful sight to see ^ , / LiAA 

Such high resolve and constancy, Vvti^'iHS^T*^^^ 
In form so soft and fair. ^ 

XXVII 

"I speak not to implore your grace. 
Well know I, for one minute's space 

Successless might I sue : 
Nor do I speak your prayers to gain ; 
5 For if a death of lingering pain. 
To cleanse my sins, be penance vain. 

Vain are your masses too. — 
I listen'd to a traitor's tale, 
I left the convent and the veil ; 
10 For three long years I bow'd my pride, 
A horse-boy in his train to ride; 




122 MARMION 

And well my folly 's/meed he gave, 

Who forfeited, to b^ his slave, 

All here, and all fb^yond the grave. — 

He saw young Clara's face more fair, 

He knew her of broad lands the heir, 

Forgot his vows, his faith forswore^^':^ 

And Constance was beloved no more. 
'Tis an old tale, and often told; 

But did my fate and wish agree. 
Ne'er had been read, in story old, ^ ^ K/Y 

Of maiden true betray 'd for gold, "^fV^ 

That loved, or was avenged, like me! 

*'The King approved his favourite's aim; 
In vain a rival barr'd his claim, K li JJ 

Whose fate with Clare's was plight,/ *^ '' 
For he attaints that rival's fame i 

With t^^aggal^s charge — and on they came, 5 

In morfeJ lists to fight. 
Their oaths are said, 
Their prayers are pray'd, 
Thek lances in the rest are laid. 

They meet in mortal shock ; , 10 

And, hark ! the throng, with thundering cry. 
Shout 'Marmion, Marmion! to the sky, 

De Wilton to the block!' 
Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decidO''^ 
When in the lists two champions ride, / 15 

Say, was Heaven's justice here? 



^ 




CANTO SECOND 123 

When, loyal in his love and faith, 
Wilton found overthrow or death . 

Beneath a traitor's spear? x.-f^pi-^"*^^ /J 
20 How false the charge; liowWue" he te[f>rt^'^ 
This guilty packet best can tell." — 
Then drew a packet from her breast, 
Paused, gather'd voice, and spoke the rest. 

XXIX 

''Still was false Marmion's bridal staid; 
To Whitby's convent fled the maid, 

The hated match to shun. 
'Ho! shifts she thus?' king Henry cried. 
5 'Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, 

If she were sworn a nun. ' 
One way remained — the King's command 
Sent Marmion to the Scottish land : 
I linger'd here, and rescue plann'd 
10 For Cla^rawand for me: 

This caitifi Monk for gold did swear 
He would to Whitby's shrine repair. 
And by his drugs my rival fair 

A saint in heaven should be. 
15 But ill the dastard kept his oath, 
Whose cowardice has undone us both. 

XXX 

"And now my tongue the secret tells, 
Not that remorse my bosom swells. 
But to assure my soul that none 
Shall ever wed with Marmion. 



124 MARMION 






10 



Had fortune my last hope betray 'd, 
This packet, to the King convey'd, 
Had given him to the headsman's stroke, 
Although my heart that instant broke. — 
Now, men of death, work forth your will, 

[For I can suffer, and be still; \ 

I And come he slow, or come he fask 

\ It is but Death who comes at last. 1 

^^ / 

XXXI 

*'Yet dread me, from my living tomb, 

Ye vassal slaves of bloody Eome ! 

If Marmion's late remorse should wake, 

Full soon such vengeance will he take, 

That you shall wish the fiery Dane 5 

Had rather been your guest again. 

Behind, a darker hour ascends ! 

The altars quake, the crosier bends, 

The ire of a despotic King \ 

Eides forth upon destruction's wing; / ^ ^^ 

Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep, J.^ "^ 

Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep; f ^\ 

Some traveller then shall find my bones / ! 

Whitening amid disjointed stones, vt""' ^ ^ 

And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, ^|^^^ is 

Marvel such relics here should be." 

XXXII 

Fix'd was her look, and stern her air: 
Back from her shoulders stream 'd her hail';. 







CANTO SECOND 125 

The locks, that wont her brow to shade, 

Stared up erectly from her head ; 
5 Her figure seem'd to rise more high; 

Her voice, despair's wild energy- 
Had given a tone of prophecy. 

Appall'd the astonish'd conclave sate; 

With stupid eyes, the men of fate 
10 Gazed on the light inspired form, 

And listen'd for the avenging storm; 

The judges felt the victim's dread; 

No hand was moved, no word was said, 

Till thus the Abbot's doom was given, 
15 Eaising his sightless balls to heaven : — 

''Sister, let thy sorrows cease; 

Sinful brother, part in peace!" 

From that dire dungeon, place of doom, 
Of execution too, and tomb, 
20 Paced forth the judges three; 

Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell 

The butcher -work that there befell, 

When they had glided from the cell 
Of sin and misery. 

XXXIII 

An hundred winding steps convey 
That conclave to the upper day ; 
But, ere they breathed the fresher air, 
They heard the shriekings of despair, 
5 And many a stifled groan : 
With speed their upward way they take. 



ii 






126 * MARMION 

(Such speed as age and fear can make,) 
And crossed themselves for terror's sake, 

As hurrying, tottering on : 
Even in the vesper's heavenly tone, lo 

They seem'd to hear a dying groan, 
And bade the passing knell to toll 
For welfare of a parting soul. 
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung, 
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung; 15 

To Warkworth cell the echoes roll'd, 
His beads the wakeful hermit told, 
The Bamborough peasant raised his head, 
But slept ere half a prayer he said : 
So far was heard the mighty knell, 3o 

The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell, \ ^ 

Spread his broad nostril to the wind, mT^ 

Listed before, aside, behind, ^"*Nf\ 

Then couch 'd him down beside the hind, \ 

And quaked among the mountain fern, h aJ 25 
To hear that sound so dull and stern. V/ 



V^ 







INTEODUOTION TO CANTO THIRD 

TO WILLIAM ERSKINE, ESQ. 

Ashestiely Ettrick Forest 



Like April morning clouds, that pass 
With varying shadow o 'er the grass, 
And imitate on field and furrow 
Life's chequer 'd scene of joy and sorrow; 

5 Like streamlet of the mountain north, 
Now in a torrent racing forth. 
Now winding slow its silver train. 
And almost slumbering on the plain ; 
Like breezes of the Autumn day, 

10 Whose voice inconstant dies away, 
And ever swells again as fast. 
When the ear deems its murmur past ; 
Thus various, my romantic theme 
Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. 

15 Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace 
Of Light and Shade's inconstant race; 
Pleased, views the rivulet afar, 
Weaving its maze irregular ; 
And pleased, we listen as the breeze 

30 Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees 

127 



128 MAEMION 

Then, wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, 
Flow on, flow unconfined, my Tale! 

II 

Need I to thee, dear Erskine, tell 
I loYe the license all too well, 
In sounds now lowly, and now strong, 
To raise the desultory song? — 

Oft, when 'mid such capricious chime, 5 

Some transient fit of lofty rhyme 
To thy kind judgment seem'd excuse 
For many an error of the muse. 
Oft hast thou said, "If, still mis-spent. 
Thine hours to poetry are lent, lo 

Go, and to tame thy wandering course. 
Quaff from the fountain at the source; 
Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb 
Immortal laurels ever bloom : 

Instructive of the feebler bard, is 

Still from the grave their voice is heard ; 
From them, and from the paths they show 'd. 
Choose honour 'd guide and practised road: 
Nor ramble on through brake and maze, 
With harpers rude, of barbarous days. 20 

III 

**0r deem'st thou not our later time 
Yields topic meet for classic rhyme? 
Hast thou no elegiac verse 



e^ 



n\ E^CEODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD 129 

For Brunswick's venerable hearse? 

5 What! not a line, a tear, a sigh, 
When valour bleeds for liberty? — 
Oh, hero of that glorious time, 
When, with unrivall'd light sublime, — 
Though martial Austria, and though all 

10 The might of Kussia, and the Gaul, 
Though banded Europe stood her foes — 
The star of Brandenburgh arose ! 
Thou could 'st not live to see her beam 
For ever quench 'd in Jena's stream. 

15 Lamented Chief ! — it was not given 
To thee to change the doom of Heaven, 
And crush that dragon in its birth, ^ 
Predestined scourge of guilty earth. -^ -^^ 
Lamented Chief ! — not thine the power, 

20 To save in that presumptuous hour. 
When Prussia hurried to the field. 
And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield; 
Valour and skill 'twas thine to try. 
And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to die. 

26 111 had it seem'd thy silver hair 
The last, the bitterest pang to share. 
For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven, 
And birthrights to usurpers given ; 
Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel, 

30 And witness woes thou couldst not heal : 
On thee relenting Heaven bestows 
For honour 'd life an honour 'd close; 
And when revolves, in time's sure change, 




130 MARMION 

The hour of Germany's revenge, ^ 

When, breathing fury for her sake,^^^^ 

Some new Ai-minius shall awake, 2^ 

Her champion, ere he strike, shall come , tA| 

To whet his sword on Bruk"SWICk's tomb. 



y 



IV 



^- 



*'0r of the Eed-Cross hero teach, 
Dauntless in dungeon as on breach : 
Alike to him, the sea, the shore, 
The brand, the bridle, or the oar : I ^ , 

Alike to him the war that calls \ A V 

Its votaries to the shatter 'd walls \- ' 

Which the grim Turk, besmear 'd with ttlobd, 
Against the Invincible made good ; 
Or that whose thundering voice could wake 
The silence of the polar lake. 
When stubborn Euss, and metal'd Swede, '^> 
On the warp'd wave their death -game play' 
Or that, where Vengeance and xlflfright 
Howl'd round the father of the fight, 
Who snatch'd, on Alexandria's sand, 
The conqueror 's wreath with dying hand. 

^^■.; \ 

'*0r, if to touch such chord be thine, 
Restore the ancient tragic line, 
And emulate the notes that rung 
From the wild harp which silent hung 




l^ 131^ 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO T^ 

5 By silver Avon's holy shore, ^ .■'A^ 

Till twice an hundred years roU'd o'er , ^"^^^^^ 
When she, the bold Enchantress, came,?) '/"^ 




With fearless hand and heart on flame, Xr ^ j^J^ 

From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, /, 
10 And swept it with a kindred measure, * ^|trl 

Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove j ^^/J^^fy 
With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, ' V^l^^^ 
Awakening at the insphed strain, \ n 7 

Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again. 'i JO'^ff 

VI 



Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, 

With praises not to me belonging. 

In task more meet for mightiest powers, 

Wouldst thou engage my thriftless hours. 
5 But say, my Erskine, hast thou weigh'd 

That secret power by all obey'd. 

Which warps not less the passive mind. 

Its source conceal'd or undefined; 

Whether an impulse, that has birth 
10 Soon as the infant wakes on earth, 

One with our feelings and our powers, 

And rather part of us than ours ; 

Or whether fitlier term'd the sway 

Of habit form'd in early day? 
15 Howe'er derived, its force confest 

Kules with despotic sway the breast, 

And drags us on by viewless chain, 

While taste and reason plead in vain. 



132 MARMION 

Look east, and ask the Belgian why, 

Beneath Batavia's sultry sky, 20 

He seeks not eager to inhale 

The freshness of the mountain gale, 

Content to rear his whitened wall 

Beside the dank and dull canal? 

He'll say, from youth he loved to see 25 

The white sail gliding by the tree. 

Or see yon weather-beaten hind, 

Whose sluggish herds before him wind. 

Whose tatter 'd plaid and rugged cheek 

His northern clime and kindred speak ; 30 

Through England's laughing meads he goes, 

And England's wealth around him flows ; 

Ask, if it would content him well. 

At ease in those gay plains to dwell, 

Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen, 35 

And spires and forests intervene, 

And the neat cottage peeps between? 

No ! not for these will he exchange 

His dark Lochaber's boundless range, 

Not for fair Devon's meads forsake \j^ 40 

Bennevis grey, and Garry's lake. 

VII 

Thus, while I ape the measure wild 
Of tales that charmed me yet a child, 
Eude though they be, still with the chime 
Return the thoughts of early time ; 
And feelings, roused in life's first day, 




V 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD 133 

Glow in the line and prompt the lay. 

Then rise those crags, that mountain tower, 

Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour. 

Though no broad river swept along, 
10 To claim, perchance, heroic song ; 

Though sigh'd no groves in summer gale, 

To prompt of love a softer tale ; 

Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed 

Claim'd homage from a shepherd's reed; 
15 Yet was poetic impulse given 

By the green hill and clear blue heaven. 

It was a barren scene, and wild, I 

Where naked cliffs were rudely piled ; 

But ever and anon between 
30 Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green fs 

And well the lonely infant knew 

Recesses where the wall-flower gf ew, 

And honeysuckle loved to crawl 

Up the low crag and ruin'd wall. 
35 I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade 

The sun in all its round surveyed; 

And still I thought that shatter 'd tower 

The mightiest work of human power ; 

And marvell'd as the aged hind 
30 With some strange tale bewitch 'd my mind 

Of forayers, who with headlong force 

Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse, 

Their southern rapine to renew 

Far in the distant Cheviots blue, 
35 And, home returning, fill 'd the hall 




134 MABMION 

With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl. 

Methought that still with trump and clang, 

The gateway's broken arches rang; 

Methought grim features, seam'd with scars, 

Glared through the window's rusty bars. 

And ever, by the winter hearth. 

Old tales I heard of woe or mirth. 

Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, 

Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms; 

Of patriot battles, won of old ; ] 

By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold'j 

Of later fields of feud and fight, / 

When, pouring from their Highland height, 

The Scottish clans in headlong sway 

Had swept the scarlet ranks away. 50 

While stretch 'd at length upon the floor, 

Again I fought each combat o'er. 

Pebbles and shells, in order laid. 

The mimic ranks of war display 'd; 

And onward still the Scottish Lion bore, 55 

And still the scatter 'd Southron fled before. 

VIII 

Still, with vain fondness, could I trace. 
Anew, each kind familiar face 
That brighten 'd at our evening fire ! 
From the thatch'd mansion's grey -hair 'd Sire, 
Wise without learning, plain and good, 5 

And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood; 
Whose eye in age, quick, clear, and keen, 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD 135 

Show'd what in youth its glance had been; 

Whose doom discording neighbours sought, 
10 Content with equity unbought ; 

To him the venerable Priest, 

Our frequent and familiar guest. 

Whose life and manners well could paint 

Alike the student and the saint ; J/ 

15 Alas ! whose speech too oft I broke V^'''^^ i 

With gambol rude and timeless joke^ kIA^ 

For I was wayward, bold, and wild, 

A seK-wiird imp, a grandame's child; 

But half a plague, and half a jest, 
20 Was still endured, beloved, caress 'd. 

IX 

For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask 

The classic poet's well-conn 'd task? 

Nay, Erskine, nay— On the wild hill 

Let the wild heath-bell flourish still ; 
5 Cherish the tulip, prune the vine. 

But freely let the woodbine twine, 

And leave untrimm'd the eglantine: 

Nay, my friend, nay — Since oft thy praise 

Hath given fresh vigour to my lays ; 
10 Since oft thy judgment could refine 

My flatten'd thought, or cumbrous line; 

Still kind, as is thy wont, attend. 

And in the minstrel spare the friend. 

Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale, 
15 Flow forth, flow unrestrain'd, my Tale! 



QH^m 




CANTO THIRD 

The Hostel^ or Inn 



The livelong day Lord Marmion rode : 

The mountain path the Palmer show'd 

By glen and streamlet winded still, 

Where stunted birches hid the rill. 

They might not chop^e the^ lj)wlandroad, 5 

Eor the Merse f oray^rs ^^ere^^oro^^ 

Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, 

Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way. 

Oft on the trampling band, from crown 

Of some tall cliff, the deer look'd down; id 

On wing of jet, from his repose 

In the deep heath, the black-cock rose; 

Sprung from the gorse the timid roe, 

Nor waited for the bending bow ; 

And when the stony path began, ^ ^jj^^ ^^ 

By which the naked peak they wan, *[ (^ 

Up flew the snowy ptarmigan, w" ^* '-^ 

The noon had long been pass'd before 

They gain'd the height of Lammermoor; 

Thence winding down the northern w^, 1 \U^^ 

Before theip:^, ^i i;be close of day, |rll{i \ l\ 

Old Giflorct's towers and hamlet lay. " \| 




CANTO THIRD 137 



II 



No summons calls them to the tower, 

To spend the hospitable hour. 

To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone; 

His cautious dame, in bower alone, 
5 Dreaded her castle to unclose. 

So late, to unknown friends or foes. 

On through the hamlet as they paced 

Before a porch whose front was graced 

With bush and flagon trimly placed, 
10 Lord Marmion drew his rein : 

The village inn seem'd large, though rude; 

Its cheerful fire and hearty food 
Might well relieve his train. 

Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, 
15 With jingling spurs the court-yard rung ; 

They bind their horses to the stall, 

For forage, food, and firing call. 

And various clamour fills the hall 

Weighing the labour with the cost, 
20 Toils everywhere the bustling host, /i 






III 

Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze, 
Through the rude hostefmight you gaze ; 
Might see, where, in dark nook aloof, 
The rafters of the sooty roof 

Bore wealth of winter cheer ; 
Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store, 




^xj 



138 I MAEMIOX 

And gammons of the tnsky boar, 

And savoury haunch of deer. 
The chimney arch projected wide; 
Above, around it, and beside, lo 

Were tools for housewives' hand; 
Nor wanted, in that mai'tial day. 
The implepentB jof Scottish fray, 

The buc^eff lance, and brand. 
Beneath its shade, the place of state, 15 

On oaken settle Marmion sate. 
And view'd around the blazing hearth. 
His followers mix in noisy mirth ; 
T^Tiom with brown ale, in jolly tide, 
From ancient vessels ranged aside, ao 

Full actively their host supplied. 

IV 

Theirs was the glee of martial breast, 

And laughter theirs at little jest ; 

And oft Lord Mai'mion deign'd to aid, 

And mingle in the mirth they made; 

For though, with men of high degi'ee, 6 

The proudest of the proud was he. 

Yet, trained in camps, he knew the art 

To win the soldier's hardy heart. 

They love a captain to obey, 

Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May; 10 

With open hand and brow as free. 

Lover of wine and minstrelsy ; 

Ever the first to scale a tower, 



CANTO THIRD 139 



As ventmo^ A^a lady's bower : — 
15 Such buTOmcnSef shall lead his host 
From India's fires to Zembla's frost. 



Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 
Right opposite the Palmer stood ; 

His thin dark visage seen but half, 
Half hidden by his hood. 
5 Still fix'd on Marmion was his look, 

Which he, who ill such gaze could brook, 
Strove by a frown to quell; r>H^ 

But not for that, though more than once 

Full met their stern encountering glance, 
10 The Palmer's visage fell. 

VI 

By fits less frequent from the crowd 
Was heard the burst of laughter loud ; 
For still, f^ squire and archer stared 
On that dark face and matted beard, 

5 Their glee and game declined. 
All gazed at length in silence drear, 
Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear 
Some yeoman, wondering in his fear. 
Thus whisper 'd forth his mind: — 

10 ** Saint Mary! saw'st thou e'er such sight? 
How pale his cheek, his eye how bright, 
Whene'er the firebrand's fickle light 
Glances beneath his cowl ! l^r^i^'P, 



140 MARMION 

Full on our Lord he sets his eye ; 
For his best palfrey would not I is 

Endure that sullen scowl." 

VII 

But Marmion, as to chase the awe 

Which thus had quell'd their hearts who saw 

The ever -varying fire-light show 

That figure stern and face of woe, 

Now call'd upon a squire: — 
^'Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay 
To speed the lingering night away? 

We slumber by the fire." — 

VIII 



, c^r^ 



*'So please you," thus the youth rejoined, 

*'Our choicest minstrel's left behind. 

Ill may we hope to please your ear, 

Accustom'd Constant's strains to hear. 

The harp full deftly can he strike, 5 

And wake the lover's lute alike; 

To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush 

Sings livelier from a spring-tide bush, 

No nightingale her love-lorn tune 

More sweetly warbles to the moon. ' 10 

Woe to the cause, whate'er it be, 

Detains from us his melody. 

Lavish 'd on rocks and billows stern, 

Or duller monks of Lindisfarne. 



CANTO THIRD 141 

ire, as I may, 
To sing his favourite roundelay 



15 Now must I venture, as I may, / / /; ^^^-^.^w- 
To sine- his favourite roundelav." ^^^'^ / ' 






IX 



A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, 

The air he chose was wild and sad; 

Such have I heard in Scottish land 

Eise from the busy harvest band, 
5 When falls before the mountaineer .- ^.^JL^^ 

On Lowland plains the ripen'd ear. <^-t>-^'*'^ / 

Now one shrill voice the notes prolong. 

Now a wild chorus swells the song : 

Oft have I listen'd and stood still, 
10 As it came soften 'd up the hill, 

And deem'd it the lament of men 

Who languished for their native glen; 

And thought how sad would be such sound 

On Susquehanna's swampy ground, 
15 Kentucky's wood-encumber 'd brake, 

Or wild Ontario's boundless lake^ 

Where heart-sick exiles, in the sttrain, 

Eecaird fair Scotland's hills again! 

X 

Song 

Where shall the lover rest 

Whom the fates sever 
From his true maiden's breast. 

Parted for ever? 



142 MARMION 

Where, through groves deep and high, 5 

Sounds the far billow, 
Where early violets die, 

Under the willow. 

* CHORUS 

Eleu loro^ &c. Soft shall be his pillow. 

There, through the summer day, lo 

Cool streams ai^e laving; 
There, while the tempests sway. 

Scarce are boughs waving ; 
There, thy rest shalt thou take, 

Parted for ever, 15 

^NFever again to wake. 

Never, never! 

CHORUS 

Eleio loro^ &c. Never, never! • 

XI 

Where shall the traitor rest, 

He, the deceiver, 
Who could win maiden 's breast, 

Ruin, and leave her? 
In the lost battle, 5 

Borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles war's rattle 

With groans of the dying. 



CANTO THIRD 143 

CHORUS 

Eleu loro^ &c. There shall he be lying. 

10 Her wing shall the eagle flap 

O'er the false hearted; 
His warm blood the wolf shall lap, 

Ere life be parted. 
Shame and dishonour sit 
15 By his grave ever ; 

Blessings shall hallow it, — 
Never, never ! 

CHORUS 

Eleu lorOj &c. Never, never! 

XII 

It ceased, the melancholy sound ; 
And silence sunk on all around. 
The air was sad ; but sadder still 

It fell on Marmion's ear, 
5 And plain 'd as if disgrace and ill, 

And shameful death, were near. 
He drew his mantle past his face. 

Between it and the band, 
And rested with his head a space 
10 Reclining on his hand. 

His thoughts I scan not ; but I ween. 
That, could their import have been seen, 
The meanest groom in all the hall, 
That e'er tied courser to a stall, 




■ " ' '' 

/ ''\^onld scarce hare wisti'd to be tl^r prey 

I f For Lutterward and.Fontenaye. 

XIII 

High minds, of native P^i^ftfSfti ^ ^S 

Most deeplT|feel thy pangs, Kemorpe! 

Fear for their scourge mean villains havQ H ^ 

^Thon art the tortui^er of the brave ! _^ 

Yet fatal strength they boast to steel 

Their minds to bear the wonnds they feel, 

Even while they v^Tithe beneath the smart 

Of civil conflict in the heart. 

For soon Lord ilarmion raised his head, 

And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said, — ^\^ lo 

''Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, 

Seem'd in mine ear a death-peal rung, 

Such as in nunneries they toll 

For some depaiting sister's soul? t^ 

Say, what may this portend?" — t^ ^ 

Then first the Palmer silence broke, . ^ 

(The livelong day he had not spoke,) ,rr 

' ' The death of a dear friend. ' ' ^ 

XIV Y 

Marmion, whose steady heart and eye 

Ne'er changed in worst extremity; 

Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 

Even from his King, a haughty look ; 

Whose accent of command controU'd s 

In camps the boldest of the bold ; — 




N 



CANTO THIRD 145 

Thought, look, and utterance fail'd him now — 
Fall'n was his glance, and flush'd his brow; 
For either in the tone, 
10 Or something in the Palmer's look, 
So full upon his conscience strook, 
That answer he found none. 
/ Thus oft it haps, that when within ) 
\ They shrink at sense of secret sin,.^'' 
15 \^ feather daunts the brave ;,.X ■ ^ 
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, 
And proudest princes vail their eyes 
Before their meanest slave. 

XV 

Well might he falter ! — By his aid 

Was Constance Beverley betray 'd. 

Not that he augur 'd of the doom 

Which on the living closed the tomb : 
5 But, tired to hear the desperate maid 

Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid; 

And wroth because in wild despair 

She practised on the life of Clare ; 

Its fugitive the Church he gave, r 
10 Though not a victim, but a slave; 

And deem'd restraint in convent strange 

Would hide her wrongs and her revenge. 

Himself, proud Henry's favourite peer. 

Held Romish thunders idle fear; 
15 Secure his pardon he might hold 

For some slight mulct of penance-gold. 

yUa 



ip 



146 MARMION 

Thus judging, he gave secret way, . 

When the stern j^riests surprised their prey. 

His train but deem'd the favourite page 

"Was left behind, to spare his age; 20 

Or other if they deem'd, none dared 

To mutter what he thought and heard: ; 

Woe to the vassal, who diirst pry ^ • 

Into Lord Marmion's privacy! |^^ 

XVI I 

m 

His conscience slept — he deem'd her well, 

And safe secured in distant cell ; 

But, waken'd by her favourite lay,-^^ 

And that strange Palmer's boding say 

That fell so ominous and di'ear, 5 

Full on the object of his fear, 

To aid remorse's venom'd throes. 

Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose ; 

And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd, 

All lovelv on his soul returned; 10 

Lovely as when at treacherous call 

She left her convent's peaceful wall, 

Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute. 

Dreading alike escape, pursuit. 

Till love, victorious o'er alarms, 15 

Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 

XVII 

"Alas!" he thought, ''how changed that mien! 
How changed these timid looks have been. 



CANTO THIRD 147 

Since years of guilt and of disguise 

Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes! 
5 No more of virgin terror speaks 

The blood that mantles in her cheeks : 

Fierce and unfeminine, are there, 

Frenzy for joy, for grief despair ; 

And I the cause — ^for whom were given 
10 H^^piQace on earth, her hopes in heaven! — 

^Would,l' thought he, as the picture grows, 
'I on its stalk had left the rose! "^"*^, 

Oh, why should man's success remove V f ; 

The very charms that wake his love !■ 
15 Her convent's peaceful solitude 

Is now a prison harsh and rude. 

And, pent within the narrow ^3^ ,, ^ 

How will her spirit chafe and swell! 

How brook the stern monastic laws ! 
20 The penance how — and I the cause ! — 

Vigil and scourge — perchance even worse !"- 

And twice he rose to cry, '^To horse!" — 

And twice his Sovereign's mandate came, 

Like damp upon a kindling flame ; 
25 And twice he thought, ''Gave I not charge 

She should be safe, though not at large? 

They durst not, for their island, shred 

One golden ringlet from her head. 



?9 



XVIII 

While thus in Marmion's bosom strove 
Repentance and reviving love, 



148 MARMION 

Like whirlwinds whose contending sway 

I've seen Loch Vennachar obey, 

Their Host the Palmer's speech had heard, 5 

And talkative, took up the word : 

*'Ay, reverend Pilgrim, yon who stray 
From Scotland's simple land away, 

To visit realms afar, 
Full often learn f the art to know 10 

Of future weal, or future woe. 

By word, or sign, or star ; 
Yet might a knight his fortune hear. 
If, knight-like, he despises fear, 
Not far from hence ; — if fathers old I6 

Aright our hamlet legend told." — 
These broken words the menials move, 
(For marvels still the vulgar love,) 
And, Marmion giving license cold, 
His tale the Host thus gladly told : — 

XIX 

The Host's Tale 

''A Clerk could tell what years have flown 
Since Alexander filled our thi'one, 
(Third monarch of that warlike name,) 
And eke tTie time when here he came 
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord: 
A braver never drew a sword ; 
A wiser never, at the hour 
Of midnight spoke the word of power: 




CANTO THIRD 149 

The same whom ancient records call 
10 The founder of the Goblin-Hall. 

I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay- 
Gave yoil that cavern to survey. 

Of lofty roof and ample size, 

Beneath the castle deep it lies : 
15 To hew the living rock profound, 

The floor to pave, the arch to round, 

There never toil'd a mortal arm — 

It all was wrought by word and charm ; 

And I have heard my grandsire say, 
20 That, the wild clamour and affray 

Of those dread artisans of hell. 

Who labour'd under Hugo's spell, 

Sounded as loud as ocean's war 

Among the caverns of Dunbar. 

XX 

*'The King Lord Gifford's castle sought, 

Deep labouring with uncertain thought. 

Even then he muster 'd all his host, 

To meet upon the western coast : 
5 For Norse and Danish galleys plied 

Their oars within the Frith of Clyde. 

There floated Haco's banner trim. 

Above Norweyan wai'riors grim, ^ 

Savage of heart and large of limb ; 
10 Threatening both continent and isle, 

Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle. 

Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground. 




*»-'; 





150 MARMION 

Heard Alexander's bugle sound, 

And tarried not his garb to change. 

But, in his wizard habit strange, 

Came forth, — a quaint and fearful sight 

His mantle lined with fox-skins white 

His high and wrinkled forehead bore ^ /^'^ 

A pointed cap, such as of yore 

Clerks say that Pharaoh's Magi Vore: . - 20 

His shoes were mark'd witii cross and spell, 

Upon his bf feast a pentacle ;, 

His zone, of virgin parchment thin, " / 

Or, as some tell, of dead m^n's skin, ,^\ 

BQr9 rn^^ny a^pl^^etary sign- a] ^ ^^ 

Combust, andVelrograde, and trine ;' ^1» - j ^ 

And in his hand heheld prepared 

A naked sword without a guard. 

'^Dire dealings with the fiendish race 

Had mark'd strange lines upon his face; 

Vigil and fast had worn him grim. 

His eyesight dazzled seem'd and dim, 

As one unused to upper day ; ^ 5 

Even his own menials with dismay 

Beheld, Sir Knight, the grisly Sire 

In his unwoi^ted wild attire ; 

Unwonted, for traditions run. 

He seldom thus beheld the sun. — 10 

'I know,' he said — (his voice was hoarse 

And broken seem'd its hollow force) — 



CANTO THIRD 151 

^I know the cause, although untold, 
Why the King seeks his yassal's hold: 
15 Vainly fi'om me my liege would know 
His kingdom's future weal or woe; 
But yet, if strong his arm and heart, 
His courage n^ay do more than art. 

^ XXII 

'' 'Of middle air the demons proud, 

Who ride upon the racking cloud, 

Can read in fix'd or wandering star 

The issues of events afar ; 
5 But 5till their sullen aid withhold, 

Save when by mightier force controll'd. 

Such late I summon'd to my hall; 

And though so potent' was the call 

That scarce the deepest nook of hell 
10 I deem'd a refuge from the spell, 

Yet, obstinate in silence still. 

The haughty demon mocks my skill. 

But thou,— who little know'st thy might, 

As born upon that blessed night 
15 When yawning graves, and dying groan, 

Proclaimed hell's empire overthrown, — 

With untaught valour shalt compel 

Kesponse denied to magic spell.'— 

'Gramercy,' quoth our Monarch free, 
20 'Place him but front to front with me. 

And, by this good and honoured brand. 

The gift of Coeur-de-Lion's hand. 



152 MAEMIO 



/ 




Soothly I swear that, tide what tide, 
The demon shall a buffet bide. ' — 
His bearing bold the wizard view'd, 
And thus, well pleased, his speech rejiew'd :— -|v 
'There spoke the blood of Malcolm !^-^iiiaf]£ : 
Forth pacing hence at midnight dark 
The rampart seek, whose circling crown 
..A Crests the ascent of yonder down: so 

A southern entrance shalt thou find ; 
There halt, and there thy bugle wind. 
And trust thine elfin foe to see. 
In guise of thy worst enemy : 

Couch then thy lance and spur thy steed — 85 

Upon him ! and Saint George to speed ! 
If he go down, thou soon shalt know 
Whatever these airy sprites can show;— 
If thy heart fail thee in the strife, 
I am no warrant for thy life. ' 4o 

XXIII 

"Soon as the midnight bell did ring, 

Alone and arm'd, forth rode the King 

To that old camp's deserted round. 

Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound. 

Left hand the town, — ^the Pictish race, s 

The trench, long since, in blood did trace; 

The moor around is brown and bare. 

The space within is green and fair. 

The spot our village children know, 

For there the earliest wild-flowers grow ; i9 



CANTO THIRD 153 



But woe betide the wandering wight, / r^ 

That treads its circle in the night ! ^ 

The breadth across, a bowshot clear, 

Gives ample space for full career : 
15 Opposed to the four points of heaven, 

By four deep gaps are entrance given. 

The southernmost our Monarch past, 

Halted, and blew a gallant blast ; 

And on the north, within the ring, £^ _, 

20 Appear 'd the form of England's King, ^"^ ^ 

Who then, a thousand leagues afar, 

In Palestine waged holy war : 

Yet arms like England's did he wield, 

Alike the leopards in the shield, 
25 Alike his Syrian courser's frame, 

The rider's length of limb the same: 

Long afterwards did Scotland know, 

Fell Edward was her deadliest foe. 

XXIV 

"The vision made our Monarch start, 
But soon he mann'd his noble heart, 
And in the first career they ran. 
The Elfin Knight fell, horse and man; 

5 Yet did a splinter of his lance 
Through Alexander's visor glance, 
And razed the skin — a puny wound. 
The King, light leaping to the ground. 
With naked blade his phantom foe 

10 Compell'd the future Avar to show. 



if^ 



I 



154 MARMION 

Of Largs he saw the glorious plain, 
Where still gigantic bones remain, 

Memorial of the Danish war ; 
Himself he saw, amid the field, 
On high his brandish 'd war-axe wield, is 

And strike proud Haco from his car, 
While all around the shadowy Kings 
Denmark's grim ravens cower 'd their wings. 
'Tis said, that in that awful night 
Eemoter visions met his sight, 2© 

Foreshowing future conquests far. 
When our sons' sons wage northern war; 
A royal city, tower and spire, 
Eedden'd the midnight sky with fire, 
And shouting crews her navy bore 25 

Triumphant to the victor shore. 
Such signs may learned clerks explain, 
They pass the wit of simple swain. 

XXV 

'*The joyful King turn'd home again. 

Headed his host, and quell'd the Dane; ' * 

But yearly, when return'd the night 

Of his strange combat with the sprite, 

His wound must bleed and smart ; "* ^ 

Lord Gifford then would gibing say, 
*Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay 

The penance of your start. ' 
Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave. 
King Alexander fills his grave, lo 



if 




CANTO THIRD 155 

Our lady give him rest ! 
Yet still the knightly spear and shield 
The Elfin Warrior doth wield 
Upon the brown hill's breast; 
15 And many a knight hath proved his chance 
In the charm 'd ring to break a lance, 

But all have foully sped ; 
Save two, as legep^s tell, and they 
Were Wallace wight and Gfilbert Hay 
20 Gentles, my tale is said." 

The quaighs were deep, the liquor strong. 

And on the tale the yeoman-throng 

Had made a comment sage and long, ^ ^ 

But Marmion gave a sign : y^^^^,.^,,^^,^.^^^'^^ 
5 And, with their lord, the squills retire; I \J^' ' ^'' ' 
The rest, around the hostel fire. 

Their drowsy limbs recline : 
For pillow, underneath each head, 
The quiver and the targe' were laid. ^' 

10 Deep slumbering on the hostel floor. 
Oppress 'd with toil and ale, they snore: 
The dying flame, in fitful change. 
Threw on the group its shadows strange. 

XXVII 

Apart, and nestling in the hay 
Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay; 



156 MARMIOX 



mantle green: 
as youth will di'eam, ^\ 
I, or by stream, ^j^^^ 



Scarce by the pale moonlight were seen 

The foldings of his mantle green : 

Lightly he di-eamt, 

Of sport by thicket. 

Of hawk or hound, of ring or glove, 

Or, lighter yet, of lady's love. 

A cautious tread his slumber broke, 

And, close beside him, when he woke, w 

In moonbeam half, and half in gloom. 

Stood a tall form with nodding plume ; 

But, ere his dagger Eustace di^ew, 

His master Marmion's voice he knew. 

, XXYIII 

— "Fitz-Eust^qe ! rise, — I cannot rest; — 

Yon churl's wild legend haunts my breast. 

And graver thoughts have chafed my mood: 

The air must cool my feverish blood; 

And fain would I ride forth to see i 

The scene of Elfin chivalry. 

Arise, and saddle me my steed ; 

And, gentle Eustace, take good heed ' 

Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves ; 'r 

I would not that the prating knaves _^ C^^ *' lo 

Had cause for saying, o'er their ale, ; 

That I could credit such a tale."-t- 

Then softly down the steps they slid, 

Eustace the stable ^door oindid^ 

And, darkling, Marmion's steed array'd, is 

While, whispering, thus the Baron said : — 



CANTO THIRD 157 

XXIX 

"Didst never, good my youth, hear tell 

That on the hour when I was born, / 

Saint George, who graced my su^e's chapelle^ (Ll^ 

Down from his steed ,of iparble fell, i/ 

5 A weary wight forlorn? 

The flattering"chaplains all agree, 

The champion left his steed to me. 

I would, the omen's truth to show, 

That I could meet this Elfin Foe ! 
10 Blithe would I battle for the right 

To ask one question at the sprite : — 

Vain thought ! for elves, if elves there be. 

An empty race, by fount or sea 

To dashing waters dance and sing, 
15 Or round the green oak wheel their ring. 

Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode. 

And from the hostel slowly rode. 

XXX 

Fitz-Eustace followed him abroad, 
And mark'd him pace the village road, 
And listen'd to his horse's tramp. 
Till, by the lessening sound, 
5 He judged that of the Pictish camp 
Lord Marmion sought the round. 
Wonder it seem'd, in the squire's eyes, 
That one, so wary held and wise. 
Of whom 'twas said he scarce received 



?> 



158 MARMION 

For gospel, what the church believed, — lo 

Should, stirr'd by idle tale, 
Ride forth in silence of the night, 
As hoping half to meet a sprite, 
Array'd in plate and mail. 

For little did Fitz-Eustace know, 15 

That; passions in contending flow 

Unfix the strongest mind ; 
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee, ^ ,, , ^.. , , , 

We welcome fond credulity, ? ^ \/ f ^^*^ 

Guide confident, though blind. ao 

XXXI i 

Little for this Fitz-Eustace cai'ed. 
But, patient, waited till he heard. 
At distance, prick'd to utmost speed, 
The foot-tramp of a flying steed 

Come town-ward rushing on ; 5 

First, dead, as if on turf it trode. 



^VV.- 



Then clattering on the village road, a/* 
In other pace than forth he yode, n ^^ 

Eeturned Lord Marmion. ^^^ (/^ 

Down hastily he sprung from selle, ^ 10 

And in his haste well-nigh he fell; 
To the squire's hand the rein he threw. 
And spoke no word as he withdrew : 
But yet the moonlight did betray, 
The falcon-crest was soil'd with clay; 15 

And plainly might Fitz-Eustace see. 
By stains upon the charger's knee 



CANTO THIRD 159 



And his left side, that on the moor 
He had not kept his footing sure. 

20 Long musing on these wondrous signs, 
At length to rest the squire reclines, 
Broken and short ; for still, between, 
Would dreams of terror intervene : 
Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark 

25 The first notes of the morning lark. 





INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH 

TO JAMES SKE3^E, ESQ. 

Ashestielj EttiHch Forest 

I 

An ancient Minstrel sagely said, 

''Where is the life which late we led^'' 

That motley clown in Arden wood, / ^ 

Whom humorous Jacques with envy yiew' 

Not even that clown could amplify 

On this trite text so long as I. 

Eleven years we now may tell, 

Since we have known each other well ; 

Since, riding side by side, our hand 

First drew the voluntary brand, lo 

And sure, through many a varied scene, 

Unkindness never came between. 

Away these winged years have flown, 

To join the mass of ages gone ; 

And though deep-mark 'd, like all below, is 

With chequer 'd shades of joy and woe. 

Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged, 

Mark'd cities lost and empires changed. 

While here, at home, my narrower ken 

Somewhat of manners saw and men; 20 

Though varying wishes, hopes, and feai^s, 

160 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH 161 

Fever 'd the progress of these years, 
Yet now, days, weeks, and months but seem 
The recollection of a dream, 
25 So still we glide down to the sea 
Of fathomless eternity. 

II 

Even now it scarcely seems a day 

Since first I tuned this idle lay ; 

A task so often thrown aside. 

When leisure graver cares denied, 
5 That now, November's dreary gale. 

Whose voice inspired my opening tale, 

That same November gale once more 

Whirls the dry leaves on Yarrow shore. 

Their vex'd boughs streaming to the sky, 
10 Once more our naked birches sigh. 

And Blackhouse heights and Ettrick Pen, 

Have donn'd their wintry shrouds again: 

And mountain dark and flooded mead 

Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed. 
15 Earlier than wont along the sky, 

Mix'd with the rack, the snow mists fly; 

The shepherd who, in summer sun, 

Had something of our envy won, 

As thou with pencil, I with pen, 
20 The features traced of hill and glen ; 

He who, outstretch 'd the livelong day, 

At ease among the heath-flowers lay, 

View'd the light clouds with vacant look, 



162 MARMION 

Or slumbered o'er his tatter 'd book, 

Or idly busied him to guide 25 

His angle o'er the lessened tide; — 

At midnight now the snowy plain 

Finds sterner labour for the swain. 

Ill 

When red hath set the beamless sun 
Through heavy vapours dark and dun ; 
When the tired ploughman, dry and warm, 
Hears, half asleep, the rising storm 
Hurling the hail, and sleeted rain 5 

Against the casement's tinkling pane; 
The sounds that drive wild deer and fox 
To shelter in the brake and rocks, 
Are warnings which the shepherd ask 
To dismal and to dangerous task. 10 

Oft he looks forth, and hopes, in vain, 
The blast may sink in mellowing rain ; 
Till, dark above, and white below. 
Decided drives the flaky snow. 

And forth the hardy swain must go. 15 

Long, with dejected look and whine, 
To leave the hearth his dogs repine; 
Whistling and cheering them to aid. 
Around his back he wreathes the plaid : 
His flock he gathers and he guides go 

To open downs and mountain-sides. 
Where fiercest though the tempest blow. 
Least deeply lies the drift below. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH 163 

The blast that whistles o'er the fells, 
25 Stiffens his locks to icicles ; 

Oft he looks back while, streaming far, 

His cottage window seems a star, — 

Loses its feeble gleam, — and then 

Turns patient to the blast again, 
30 And, facing to the tempest's sweep. 

Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep. 

If fails his heart, if his limbs fail. 

Benumbing death is in the gale : 

His paths, his landmarks, all unknown, 
35 Close to the hut, no more his own. 

Close to the aid he sought in vain. 

The morn may find the stiflen'd swain: 

The widow sees, at dawning pale, 

His orphans raise their feeble wail ; 
40 And, close beside him in the snow. 

Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe. 

Couches upon his master's breast. 

And licks his cheek to break his rest. 

IV 

Who envies now the shepherd's lot. 
His healthy fare, his rural cot. 
His summer couch by greenwood tree. 
His rustic kirn's loud revelry, 
5 His native hill-notes, tuned on high 
To Marion of the blithesome eye, 
His crook, his scrip, his oaten reed, 
And all Arcadia's golden creed? 



164 MARMION 



V 



3 la^c 1 



Changes not so with us, my Skene, 
Of human life the varying scene? 
Our youthful summer oft we see 
Dance by on wings of game and glee. 
While the dark storm reserves its rage I ^ 

Against the winter of our age 
As he, the ancient Chief of Troy, 
His manhood spent in peace and 
But Grecian fires, and loud alarms / 
Call'd ancient Priam forth to arms. ^ lo 

Then happy those, since each must drain 
His share of pleasure, share of pain, — 
Then happy those, beloved of Heaven, 
To whom the mingled cup is given ; 
Whose lenient sorrows find relief, is 

Whose joys are chasten'd by their grief. 
And such a lot, my Skene, was thine. 
When thou of late wert doom'd to twine, — 
Just when thy bridal hour was by, — 
The cypress with the myrtle tie. ao 

Just on thy bride her Sire had smiled, 
And bless 'd the union of his child. 
When love must change its joyous cheer, 
And wipe affection's filial tear. 

Nor did the actions next his end, es 

Speak more the father than the friend. 
Scarce had lamented Forbes paid 
The tribute to his Minstrel 's shade ; 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH 105 

The tale of friendship scarce was told, 
30 Ere the narrator ^s heart was cold — 

Far may we search before we find 

A heart so manly and so kind ! 

But not around his honour 'd urn 

Shall friends alone and kindred mourn ; 
35 The thousand eyes his care had di'ied 

Pour at his name a bitter tide ; 

And frequent falls the grateful dew 

For benefits the world ne'er knew. 

If mortal chai'ity dare claim 
40 The Almighty's attributed name, 

Inscribe above his mouldering clay, 

"The widow ^s shield, the orphan's stay." 

Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem 

My verse intrudes on this sad theme ; 
45 For sacred was the pen that wrote, 

''Thy father's friend forget thou not:" 

And grateful title may I plead, 

For many a kindly word and deed, 

To bring my tribute to his grave : — 
50 'Tis little — but 'tis all I have. 

VI 

To thee, perchance, this rambling strain 
Recalls our summer walks again ; 
When, doing nought, — and, to speak true, 
Not anxious to find aught to do, — 
5 The wild unbounded hills we ranged, 
While oft our talk its topic changed, 



166 MARMION 

And, desultory as our way, 

Eanged unconfined from grave to gay. 

Even when it flagg'd, as oft will chance, 

No effort made to break its trance, lo 

We could right pleasantly pursue 
|v Our sports in social silence too ; 
i^<rhou bravely labouring to pourtray 
^ The blighted oak's fantastic spray; 
^I spelling o'er, with much delight, 15 

The legend of that antique knight, 
\>^.Tirante by name, yclep'd the White. 
» At cither's feet a trusty squire, 

Pandour and Camp, with eyes of fire, 

Jealous, each other's motions view'd, 

And scarce suppress'd their ancient feud. 

The laverock whistled from the cloud; 

The stream was lively, but not loud ; 

From the white thorn the May-flower she<^ 

Its dewy fragrance round our head : \^ K 25 

Not Ariel lived more merrily 

Under the blossom'd.bough than we, 

VII ^ 




^y 



And blithesome nights, too, have been ours. 
When Winter stript the summer's bowers. 
Careless we heard, what now I hear, 
The wild blast sighing deep and drear. 
When fires were bright and lamps beam'd gay. 
And ladies tuned the lovely lay ; 
And he was held a laggard soul, 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH 167 

Who shunn'd to quaff the sparkling bowl. 
Then he whose absence we deplore, 

10 Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore, 
The longer miss'd, bewail'd the more, 
And thou, and I, and dear loved Kae, 
And one whose name I may not say, 
For not Mimosa's tender tree 

15 Shrinks sooner from the touch than he, — 
In merry chorus well combined, 
With laughter drown' d the whistling wind. 
Mirth was within, and Care without 
Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout. 

20 Not but amid the buxom scene 

Some grave discourse might intervene — 
Of the good horse that bore him best, 
His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest : 
For, like mad Tom's, our chief est care 

25 Was horse to ride, and weapon wear. 

Such nights we've had; and, though the game 
Of manhood be more sober tame. 
And though the field-day, or the drill. 
Seem less important now — yet still 

30 Such may we hope to share again. 

The sprightly thought inspires my strain ! 
And mark, how, like a horseman true. 
Lord Marmion's march I thus renew. 




CANTO FOUETH 

The Camp 

I 

Eustace, I said, did blithely mark 
The first notes of the merry lark. ^ I 
The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew, 
And loudly Marmion's bugles blew, 
And with their light and lively call, 
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall. 

Whistling they came and free of heart, 
But soon their mood was changed ; 

Complaint was heard on every part 
Of something disarranged. 
Some clamoured loud for armour lost ; 
Some brawl'd and wrangled with the host; 
''By Becket's bones," cried one, ''I fear 
That some false Scot has stolen my spear!" 
Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire. 
Found his steed wet with sweat and mire, 
Although the rated jws^boy sware. 
Last night he dre^d him sleek and fair. 
While chafed the impatient squire like thunder, 
Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder, — 
''Help, gentle Blount! help, comrades all! 
Bevis lies dying in his stall : 
To Marmion who the plight dare tell 

168 



19 



16 



^ 



^^ CANTO FOURTH 169 



Qi the good steed he loyes so well?" 
25 Gaping for fear and ruth, they ^w 
The charger panting on his straw; 
Till one, who would seem wisest cried 
''What else but evil could betide, 
With that cursed Palmer for our guide? 
80 Better we had through mire 
Been lantern-led by Friar Eush 

II 



our guide? ^ ^n 

and bush y# if ff' 



\^i^.4^%f^ 



Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guess' 

Nor wholly understood, 
His comrades' clamorous plaints suppressed; y 
He knew Lord Marmion's mood. 
5 Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, 

And found deep plunged in gloomy thought, 

And did his tale display 
Simply as if he knew of nought 
To cause such disarray. 
10 Lord Marmion gave attention cold, 
Nor marveU'd at the wonders told, — 
Pass'd them as accidents of course. 
And bade his clarions sound to horse. 

Ill 

Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost 
Had reckoned with their Scottish host ; 
And, as the charge he cast and paid, 
"111 thou deserv'st thy hire," he said: 
5 "Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight? 



170 MARMION 

» 

Fairies have ridden him all the night, 

And left him in a foam ! 
I trust that soon a conjuring band, 
With English cross and blazing brand, 
Shall drive the devils from this land lo 

To their infernal home : 
For in this haunted den, I trow, 
All night they trample to and fro." 
The laughing host looked on the hire, 
^'Gramercy, gentle southern squire, 15 

And if thou comest among the rest, 
With Scottish broadsword to be blest. 
Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow, 
And short the pang to undergo." 
Here stay'd their talk, — ^for Marmion ao 

Gave now the signal to set on. 
The Palmer showing forth the way. 
They journey 'd all the morning day. 

IV 

The green-sward way was smooth and good, 

Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood; 

A forest glade, which varying still. 

Here gave a view of dale and hill. 

There narrower closed, till overhead, 5 

A vaulted screen the branches made. 

*'A pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said; 

''Such as where errant-knights might see 

Adventures of high chivalry ; 

Might meet some damsel flying fast, 10 



CANTO FOURTH 171 

With hair unbound and looks aghast ; 

And smooth and level course were here, 

In her defence to break a spear. 

Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells; 
15 And oft, in such, the story tells. 

The damsel kind, from danger freed. 

Did grateful pay her champion's meed." 

He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mind: 

Perchance to show his lore design'd; 
90 For Eustace much had pored ? 

Upon a huge romantic tome, 

In the hall window of his home. 

Imprinted at the antique dome 
Of Caxton or De Worde. 
25 Therefore he spoke, — but spoke in vain, 

For Marmion answer 'd nought again. 



Now sudden, distant trumpets shrill, 
In notes prolong'd by wood and hill. 

Were heard to echo far ; 
Each ready archer graspTd his ^&%iL^^ 
5 But by the flourish^oon they know, 

They breathed no point of war. 
Yet cautious, as in foeman's land. 
Lord Marmion's order speeds the band, 

Some opener ground to gain ; 
10 And scarce a furlong had they rode. 
When thinner trees receding show'd 

A little woodland plain. , y ^ / 

4 M J^ 



e 



^ 



V 



ry 



5 



172 MARMION 

Just in that advantageous glade, 
The halting troop a line had made, 
As forth from the opposing shade is 

Issued a gallant train. 

VI 

Fu'st came the trumpets at whose clang a 

So late the forest echoes rang ; J 

On prancing steeds they forward pressed, 

With scarlet mantle, azure vest ; ^ ^ 

Each at his trump a banner wore, Vv jfe^ 

Which Scotland's royaLscutcheon bore: ' ' ^ 

Heralds and pursuivahts, by name 

Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Eothsay, came, | 

In painted tabards, proudly showing /> 

Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowi^, 

Attendant on a King-at-arms, ^ , 
Whose hand the armorial truncheoh held 
That feudal strife had often queird, 

When wildest its alarms. 

VII 

He was a man of middle age ; 
In aspect manly, grave, and sage, 

As on King's errand come; 
But in the glances of his eye, 
A penetrating, keen, and sly V^ Jl/^ t. If 

Expression found its home ; ' '\^ 

The flash of that satiric rage, -<V ^ I 
Which, bursting on the early stage, ; .*/ 



1 1 



i« 




/ 






\ f V \ CANTO FOUETH 173 

^ ^ i %anded the vices of the age, 
\ \%i^ And broke the keys of Rome. 

V \ On milk-white palfre^^drth he paced; . 
. ^ V His cap of ^^bm&fenaiifce was graced ^^X^"/ a 
^ \ With the protid he^dh-pltiine. ^ - " "^ 
f^ i' From his steed's shoulder, loin and breast,' 
f^ 15 Silk hbusiilgs swept th|6 ground, 
^^' With Scotland's arms, d^^ice, and crest, 

Embroid^,'d round and round. id^' 

The double tressiire ni|g||t you se^ / ^^ 
First by i^chaius borne, ' / ^' ' "' j f / 
30 The thistffe^nd the fleur-de4is, W^^U^l.^-^'^^ 
And gallant unicorn. ^ 

So bright the King's armorial coat. 
That scarce the dazzled eye could note, 
In living colours, blazon 'd brave, 
25 The Lion, which his title gave ; 

A train which well beseem'd his state, 
But all unarm'd, around him wait. 
Still is thy name in high account, 

And still thy verse has charms, / ;t 
80 Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, y C^^^lx^ ' 
Lord Lion King-at-arms ! / i ^ 7 ^^ 

VITI ^ 

own from his horse did Marmion spring. 
Soon as he saw the Lion-King; 
For well the stately Baron knew 
To him such courtesy was due, 
5 Whom royal James himself had crown 'd, 




174 MARMION 

And on his temples placed the round 

Of Scotland's ancient diadem: 
And wet his brow with hallow 'd wine, 
And on his finger given to shine 

The emblematic gem. lo 

Their mutual greetings duly made, 
The Lion thus his message said : — 
''Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore 
Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more, 
And strictly hath forbid resort 15 

From England to his royal court ; 
Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name, 
And IjLpnpurs much his warlike fame, 
My liege hath deem'd it shame and lack 
Of courtesy, to turn him back ; 30 

And, by his order, I, your guide, 
Must lodging fit and fair provide, 
Till finds King James meet time to see 
The flower of English chivalry." 

IX 

Though inly chafed at this delay. 
Lord Marmion bears it as he may. 
The Palmer, his mysterious guide, 
Beholding thus his place supplied, 

Sought to take leave in vain ; 5 

Strict was the Lion-King's command 
That none, who rode in Marmion's band. 

Should sever from the train : 
"England has here enow of spies 



CANTO FOURTH 176 



f^ 



Inl^djr.? Heron's witching eyes 

*o^Marcnmount thus, apart, he said, 
But fair pretext to Marmion made. 
The right hand path they now decline. 
And trace against the stream the Tyne. 



At length up that wild dale they wind, 

Where Crichtoun Castle crowns the bank ; 
For there the Lion's care assigned 

A lodging meet for Marmion 's rank. 
5 That Castle rises on the steep 

Of the green vale of Tyne : 
And far beneath, where slow they creep 
From pool to eddy, dark and deep, 
Where alders moist and willows weep, 
10 You hear her streams repine. 
The towers in different ag"es rose ; ' 
Their various architecture shows 

The builders' various hands; 
A mighty mass, that could oppose, 
15 When deadliest hatred fired its foes, ^ 

The vengeful Douglas bands. 

XI 

Crichtoun ! though now thy miry com 

But pens the lazy steer and sheep, ^^ L Ia^I. \ 
Thy turrets rude, and totter'd Kee^r (f^^^^ 

Have been the minstrel's loved resort. ^ 




176 MARMION 

Oft have I traced, within thy fort, ^ 5 

Of moulderinsf s|iield5 the niv^ic seiase, ^, l 

Scutcheons of honQui^ Or "pretence, I 

Quarter 'd in old armK^rial sort, V 

Remains of rude magnificence. 
Nor wholly yet had tinie defaced -^ 10 

Thy lordly gallery fair ; 
Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, 
Whose twisted knots, with rose§ laced, * 

Adorn thy ruin'd stair, f . . k)j ^/^ 

Still rises unimpair'd below, . / 15^ 

TJie courtyard's graceful portico; _''' ' 

J^bove its cornice, row and row .^^^ . 

Of fair hewn facets richly show 
Their pointed diamond form. 

Though there but houseless cattle go, 20 

To shield them from the stor] 
And, shuddering, still may; wi 

Where oft whilom werfe d§5>^e^pBnt, 

The darkness of the Massy More ; 

Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, 
May trace in undulating line 
The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. 





XII 

Another aspect Crichtoun show'd, 
As through its portal Marmion rode; 
But yet 'twas melancholy state 
Received him at the outer gate ; 
For none were in the Castle then, 



^J^ — 



CANTO FOURTH 177 

But women, boys, or aged men. 

With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame, 

To welcome noble Marmion, came; 

Her son, a stripling twelve years old, 
10 Proffer 'd the Baron's rein to hold; 

For each man that could draw a sword 

Had march'd that morning with their lord, 

Earl Adam Hepburn, — he who died 

On riodden, by his sovereign's side. 
15 Long may his Lady look in vain ! 

She ne'er shall see his gallant train 

Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean. 

'Twas a brave race, before the name 

Of hated Bothwell stain'd their fame. 

XIII 

And here two days did Marmion rest, 
With every rite that honour claims, 

Attended as the King's own guest: — 
Such the command of Eoyal James, 
5 Who marshall'd then his land's array ,^ 

Upon the Borough-moor that lay. 

Perchance he would not foeman's eye 

Upon his gathering host should pry, 

Till full prepared was every band 
10 To march against the English land. 

Here while they dwelt, did Lindesay's wit 

Oft cheer the Baron's moodier fit; 

And, in his turn, he knew to prize 

Lord Marmion 's powerful mind, and wise, 




178 



MARMION 



Train'd in the lore of Eome and Grreece, 
And policies of war and peace. 

XIV 

It chanced, as fell the second night, 

That on the battlements they walk'd. 
And, by the slowly fading light 

Of varying topics talked ; 
And, unaware, the Herald-bard 
Said Marmion might his toil have spared, 

In travelling so far ; 
For that a messenger from heaven 
In vain to James had counsel given 

Against the English war ; 
And, closer questioned, thus he toldi 
A tale which chronicles of old -^^^^ 
In Scottish story have enroird: — 

XV 

Sir David Lindesay'^s 

*'0f all the palaces so fair. 

Built for the royal dwelling 
In Scotland, far beyond compara..^ 

Linlithgow is excellijQ^g^-- '^ 
And in its park in jovial June, 
How sweet the merry linnet's tune. 

How blithe the blackbird's lay ! 
The wild buck bells from ferny brake, 
The coot dives merry on the lake. 
The saddest heart might pleasure take 



15 




10 



CANTO FOURTH 179 

To see all nature gay. 

But June is, to our Sovereign dear, 

The heaviest month in all the year : 

Too well his cause of grief you know, 
15 June saw his father's overthrow. 

Woe to the traitors who could bring 

The princely boy against his King ! 

Still in his conscience burns the sting. 

In offices as strict as Lent, 
20 King James's June is ever spent. 

XVI 

''When last this ruthful month was come. 
And in Linlithgow's holy dome 

The King, as wont, was praying; 
While for his royal father's soul 
5 The chanters sung, the bells did toll. 

The Bishop mass was saying — 
yor now the year brought round again 
The day the luckless king was slain — 
In Katharine's aisle the Monarch knelt, 
10 With sackcloth-shirt and iron belt. 
And eyes with sorrow streaming ; 
Around him in their stalls of state. 
The Thistle's Knight-Companions sate, 

Their banners""VerTEem^bcammg. 
15 I too was there, and, sooth to tell, 
Bedeafen'd with the jangling knell. 
Was watching where the sunbeams fell 

Through the stain'd casement gleaming; 



180 



MAKMION 



But, while I mark'd what next befell, 

It seem'd as I were dreaming. 
Stepp'd from the crowd a ghostly wigfht, fi a 
In azm-e gown, with cincture white ; yH/yf 
His forehead bald, his head was bare, 
Down hung at length his yellow hair. — 
iSTow, mock me not, when, good my Lord, 
I pledge to you my knightly word 
That, when I saw his placid grace. 
His simple majesty of face. 
His solemn bearing, and his j)ace 

So stately gliding on, — /|?^ 
Seem'd to me ne'er did limnfer paint 
So just an image of the Saint 
Who propp'd the Virgin in her fai 

The loved Apostle John! 



20 



"/ 



-^^v 



25 



A 






so 



XVII 

"He stepp'd before the Monarch's chai 
And stood with rustic plainness there, 

And little reverence made ; 
Nor head, nor body, bow'd nor bent, 
But on the desk his arm he leant. 

And words like these he said. 
In a low voice — but never tone 
So thrill'd through vein, and nerve and bone 
'My mother sent me from afar. 
Sir King, to warn thee not to war, — 

Woe waits on thine array ; 
If war thou wilt, of woman fair. 




10 



V 



CANTO FOURTH 181 

Her witching wiles and wanton snare, 
James Stuart, doubly warn'd, beware: 
15 God keep thee as he may!' 

The wondering Monarch seem'd to seek 

For answer, and found none; 
And when he raised his head to speak. 
The monitor was gone. 
30 The Marshal and myself had cast 
. To stop him as he outward pass'd; 
But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast, 

He vanish'd from our eyes, 
Like sunbeam on the billow cast, 
25 That glances but, and dies." 

XVIII 

While Lindesay told his marvel strange. 

The twilight was so pale, 
He mai^k'd not Marmion's colour change 
While listening to the tale ; 
5 But, after a suspended pause. 
The Baron spoke: — ''Of Nature's laws 
So strong I held the force. 
That never superhuman cause 
Could e'er control their course. 
10 And, three days since, had judged your aim ^ ^ 
Was but to make your guest your game ; 
But I have seen, since past the Tweed, 4 
What much has changed my sceptic creed, 
And made me credit aught." — He staid, 
15 And seem'd to wish his words unsaid : 



182 MARMION 

But, by that strong emotion pressed 
Which prompts us to unload our breast, 

Even when discovery's pain, 
To Lindesay did at length unfold 
The tale his village host had told, 20 

At Gifford, to his train. 
Nought of the Palmer says he there, 
And nought of Constance, or of Clare ; 
The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he seems 
To mention but as feverish dreams. 25 

XIX 

''In vain," said he, "to rest I spread 
My burning limbs, and couch 'd my head: 

Fantastic thoughts return'd; ^ , 

And, by their wild dominion led, ^ ^1 

My heart within me burn'd. ' s 

So sore was the delirious goad, 

I took my steed, and forth I rode, ^ 1 fs^^p 

And, as the moon shone bright and cold, | \ ^^ (^ 
Soon reach'd the camp upon the wold.0t.iA ' , 
The southern entrance I pass'd through|- ' 4-*^ "^ 10 
And halted, and my bugle blew. y 

Methought an answer met my ear, — 
Yet was the blast so low and drear, 
So hollow, and so faintly blown, 
It might be echo of my own. 15 

XX 

"Thus judging, for a little space 
I listened, ere I left the place; 



CANTO FOURTH 183 

But scarce could trust my eyes, 
Nor yet can think they serv'd me true, 
5 When sudden in the ring I view, 
In form distinct of shape and hue, 

A mounted champion rise. — 
I've fought, Lord-Lion, many a day. 
In single fight and mix'd affray, 
10 And ever, I myself may say. 
Have borne me as a knight ; 
But when this unexpected foe 
Seem'd starting from the gulf below, — 
I care not though the truth I show, — > 

15 I trembled with affright ; y/^^ 

And, as I placed in rest my spear, /^ ^^ 

My hand so shook for very fear, ^^^'^j^ 

I scarce could couch it right. ^ ^y^ 

XXI 

*'Why need my tongue the issue tell? 
We ran our course, — my charger fell; — 
What could he 'gainst the shock of hell? 

I roU'd upon the plain. 
5 High o'er my head with thi'eatening hand 
The spectre shook his naked brand, — 

Yet did the worst remain : 
My dazzled eyes I upward cast, 
Not opening hell itself could blast 
10 'Their sight, like what I saw! 

Full on his face the moonbeams strook, — 
A face could never be mistook I 



184 MARMION 

I knew the stern yindictive look, 

And held my breath for awe. 
I saw the face of one who, fled k 

To foreign climes, has long been dead, — 

I well believe the last- . /, 
For ne'er from visor raised did stare 
A human warrior with a glare 

So grimly and so ghast. 20 

Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade; 
But when to good Saint George I pray'd, 
(The first time e'er I ask'd his aid,) 

He plunged it in the sheath ; 
And, on his courser mounting light, 25 

He seem'd to vanish from my sight : 
The moonbeam droop 'd, and deepest night 

Sunk down upon the heath. — 

'Twere long to tell what cause I have 
To know his face that met me there, so 

Call'd by his hatred from the gi^ave. 
To cumber upper air : 
Dead or alive, good cause had he 
To be my mortal enemy," 

XXII 

Marvell'd Sir David of the Mount; 
Then, learn'd in story, 'gan recount 

Such chance had happ'd of old, 
When once, near Norham, there did fight 
A spectre fell of fiendish might, 5 



CANTO FOURTH 185 

In likeness of a Scottish knight, 

With Brian Bulmer bold, 
And train 'd him nigh to disallow 
The aid of his baptismal vow. 
10 "And such a phantom, too, 'tis said, 

With Highland broadsword, targe, and plaid, 

And fingers red with gore, 
Is seen in Eothiemurcus glade. 
Or where the sable pine-trees shade 
15 Dark Tomantoul, and Auchnaslaid, 
Dromouchty, or Glenmore. 
And yet, whate'er such legends say 
Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay. 
On mountain, moor, or plain, 
20 Spotless in faith, in bosom bold. 
True son of chivalry should hold 

These midnight terrors vain ; 
For seldom have such spirits power 
To harm, save in the evil hour 
25 When guilt we meditate within. 
Or harbour unrepented sin." — 
Lord Marmion turn'd him half aside. 
And twice to clear his voice he tried. 
Then press'd Sir David's hand, — 
30 But nought, at length, in answer said; 
And here their farther converse staid, 

Each ordQring that his band 
Should bd%4e them with the rising day, 
To Scotland's camp to take their way, — 
35 Such was the King's command. 



186 MARMION ^ejL^ 

Early they took Dun-Edin's road. 

And I could trace each step they trode. 

Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone, 

Lies on the path to me unknown. ^ 

Much might it boast of storied lore ; Jj^ 5 

But, passing such digression o'er, 

Suffice it that tjigir roijte^ was laid 

Across the furzy hills of Braid. 

They pass'd the glen and scanty rill, 

And climb'd the opposing bank, until 10 

They gain'd the top of Blackford Hill. 

Blackford ! on whose uncultured breast, \Ja4^^ 

Among the broom and thorn and whin,^\ '^ 1/ 
A truant-boy, I sought the nest, '. '/ 

Or listed, as I lay at rest. 

While rose, on breezes thin, 6 

The murmur of the city crowd. 
And, from his steeple jangling loud, 

Saint Giles's mingling din. 
Now, from the summit to the plain, 
Waves all the hill with yellow grain ; 10 

And o'er the landscape as I look, 
Nought do I see unchanged remain, 

Save the rude cliffs and chiming brook. 
To me they make a heavy moan, 
Of eai^ly friendships past and gone^ 15 



CANTO FOURTH 187 



XXV 



But different far the change has been, 

Since Marmion, from the crown 
Of Blackford, saw that martial scene 

Upon the bent so brown : 
5 Thousand pavilions, white as snow, 
Spread all the Borough-moor below, 

Upland, and dale, and down : — 
A thousand did I say? I ween, 

Thousands on thousands there wer.e seen, /*--'2J4#<<»^'^jgJ' 
10 That chequer 'd all the heath between j 

The streamlet and the town ; I 

In crossing ranks extending far. 
Forming a camp irregular ; 
Oft giving way, where still there stood 
15 Some relics of the old oak wood. 
That darkly huge did intervene, 
And tamed the glaring white with green : 
In these extended lines there lay 
A martial kingdom's vast array. 

XXVI 

For from Hebudes, dark with rain. 
To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, 
And from the Southern Eedswire edge 
To farthest Kosse's rocky ledge ; 
5 From west to east, from south to north, 
Scotland sent all her warriors forth. 
Marmion might hear the mingled hum 



188 MARMION 

Of myriads up the mountain come ; 

The horses' tramp and tingling clank, 

Where chiefs review'd their vassal rank, 10 

And charger's shrilling neigh; 
And see the shifting lines advance, 
While frequent flash 'd from shield and lance, 

The sun's reflected ray. 

XXVII 

Thin curling in the morning air. 

The wreaths of failing smoke declare 

To embers now the brands decay'd, 

Where the night-watch their fires had made. 

They saw, slow rolling on the plain, h\ 

Full many a baggage cart and wain, ^ | 

(And dire artillery's clumsy car, ^P^. ' 

By sluggish oxen tugg'd to war; 
And there were Borthwick's Sisters seven, 
^if-And culverins which France had given. 10 

"^'^^ Ill-omen'd gift! the guns remain 
^' The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. 

XXVIII 

Nor mark'd they less, where in the air 
A thousand streamers flaunted fair ; 

Various in shape, device, and hue. 
Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, 
Bro^, narrow, swallow-tail'd, and square, ^'■ 

Scroll, pennon, pensil, bandrol, there , j jj^^ 

O'er the pavilions flew!^^'^-tJ/U y^^^^l 



*J 




CANTO FOURTH 189 

Highest and midmost, was descried ^^^^'^^ 
The royal banner floating wide ; 
10 The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight, 
Pitch'd deeply in a massive stone, 
Which still in memory is shown, 

Yet bent beneath the standard's weight, 
Whene'er the western wind nnroU'd 
15 With toil the huge and cumbrous fold, 

And gave to view the dazzling field, 
Where, in proud Scotland's royal shield, 
The ruddy lion ^mp'din gold. 

Lord Marmion view'd the landscape bright, — 
He view'd it with a chief's delight, — 
Until within him burn'd his heart. 
And lightning from his eye did part, 
5 As on the battle-day ; 

Such glance did falcon never dart. 
When stooping on his prey. 
"Ob ! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said. 
Thy King from warfare to dissuade 
10 Were but a vain essay : 

For, by St. George, were that host mine, 
ifot power infernal nor divine 
Should once to peace my soul incline. 
Till I had dimm'd their armour's shine 
15 In glorious battle-fray!" 

Answer'd the Bard, of milder mood, — 
'*Fair is the sight, — and yet 'twere good 



190 MARMION 

That Kings would think withal, 
When peace and wealth their land has bless 'd, 
'Tis better to sit still at rest » 

Than rise, perchartce to fall.'' 

XXX 

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd, 
For faii-er scene he ne!er survey 'd. 

When sated with the martial show 

That peopled all the plain below, 

The wandering eye could o'er it go, 5 

And mark the distant city glow 
With gloomy splendour red ; 

For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, 

That round her sable turrets flow. 

The morning beams were shed, 10 

And tinged them with a lustre proud, 

Like that which sti'eaks a thunder-cloud. 
Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, 
Where the huge Castle holds its state, 

And all the steep slope down, 15 

Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, 
Piled deep and massy, close and high, 

Mine own romantic town ! 
But northward fai\ with purer blaze. 
On Ochil mountains fell the rays, 90 

And as each heathy top they kiss'd, 
It gleam 'd a purple amethyst. 
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw; 
Here Preston-Bay and Berwick-Law: 



CANTO FOURTH 191 

25 And, broad between them rolPd, 

The gallant Frith the eye might note, 

Whose islands on its bosom float, 
Like emeralds chased in gold. 

Fitz-Eustace' heart felt closely pent; 
30 As if to give his rapture vent, 

The spur he to his charger lent. 
And raised his bridle hand. 

And, making demi- volte in air, 

Cried, " Where's the coward that Avould not dare 
35 To fight for such a land ! ' ' 

The Lindesay smiled his joy to see ; 

Nor*Marmion's frown repr^ss'd his glee. 

/^ ^'^:^hus, while they look'd, a flourish ;^roud, j 

r y Where mingled trump and clarion loud, F 

And flfe, and kettle-drum, ^ . , ,i?. / -^^"' i 

And sackbut deep, and psaltery, - ^ ' '" * / , L^^ 
gi 5 And war -pipe with discondant cry . I i- ^ ^'' ^^ 
^% And cymbal clattering im^^ff^^^"^ ^^^^ " 
Making wild music bold and high. 

Did up the mountain come ; 
The whilst the bells, with distant chime, 
10 Merrily told the hour of prime, ■ 
And thus the Lindesay spoke : 
"Thus clamour still the war-notes when 
The king to mass his way has ta'en. 
Or to St. Katharine's of Sienne, 
15 Or Chapel of Saint Rocque. 



/ 



192 



MARMION 



To you they speak of martial fame, 
But me remind of peaceful game, 

When blither was their cheer, 
Thrilling in Falkland- woods the air, 
In signal none his steed should spare. 
But strive which foremost might repair 

To the downfall of the deer. 

XXXII 

*'Nor less," he said, — **when looki 
I view yon Empress of the North 

Sit on her hilly throne; 
Her palace's imperial bowers, 
Her castle, proof to hostile powers, 
Her stately halls and holy towers — 

Nor less," he said, "I moan 
To think what woe mischance may bring. 
And how these merry bells may ring 
The death-dirge of our gallant Kingj; ^ 

Or with the larum call ^^ t/^^^' " 
The burghers forth to watch and ward, . 
'Gainst Southern sack andifires to guard 

Dun-Edin's leagfter'd wall. — ■ 
But not for my presaging thought. 
Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought ! 

Lord Marmion, I say nay: 
God is the guider of the field. 
He breaks the champion's spear and shield, 

But thou thyself shalt say. 
When joins yon host in deadly stowre. 




^. 



J 



'M^ 

^ 



15 



^i 




CANTO FOURTH 193 

That England's dames niiist weep in bower, 

Her monks the death -mass sing; 
For never saw'st thou such a power 
25 Led on by such a King." — 

And now, down winding to the plain, 
The barriers of the camp they gain, 

And there they made a stay. — 
There stays the Minstrel, till he fling 
30 His hand o'er every Border string. 
And fit his harp the pomp to sing. 
Of Scotland's ancient Court and King, 
In the succeeding lay. 



9- fi^, 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH 

TO GEORGE ELLIS, ESQ. 

Edinburgh 



When dark December glooms the day, 

And takes om* autumn joys away; 

When short and scant the sunbeam throws 

Upon the weary waste of snows 

A cold and profitless regard, 5 

Like patron on a needy bard ; 

When silvan occupation's done, 

And o'er the chimney rests the gun, 

And hang, in idle trophy, near. 

The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear; 10 

When wiry terrier, rough and grim. 

And greyhound, with his length of limb, 

And pointer, now employ 'd no more. 

Cumber our parlour's narrow floor: 

When in his stall the impatient steed 15 

Is long condemn 'd to rest and feed; 

When from our snow-enckcled home 

Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam, 

Since path is none, save that to bring 

The needful water from the spring ; 20 

When wrinkled news-page, thrice conn'd o'er, 

ld4 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH 195 

Beguiles the dreary hour no more, 

And darkling politician, cross 'd, 

Inveighs against the lingering post, 
25 And answering housewife sore complains 

Of carriers' snow -impeded wains; 

When such the country cheer, I come, 

Well pleased, to seek our city home ; 

For converse, and for books, to change 
80 The Forest's melancholy range, 

And welcome with renew' d delight 

The busy day and social night. 

II 

Not here need my desponding rhyme 

Lament the ravages of time. 

As erst by Newark's riven towers. 

And Ettrick stripped of forest bowers. 
5 True, — Caledonia's Queen is changed. 

Since on her dusky summit ranged. 

Within its steepy limits pent 

By bulwark, line, and battlement. 

And flanking towers, and laky flood, 
10 Guarded and garrison'd she stood. 

Denying entrance or resort, 

Save at each tall embattled port ; 

Above whose arch, suspended, hung 

Portcullis spiked with iron prong. 
15 That long is gone, — but not so long, 

Since, early closed and opening late, 

Jealous revolved the studded gate, 



196 MARMION 

Whose task, from eve to morning tide, 

A wicket churlishly supplied. 

Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow, 20 

Dun-Edin ! 0, how alter 'd now. 

When safe amid thy mountain court 

Thou sit'st, like Empress at her sport, 

And liberal, unconfined, and free. 

Flinging thy white arms to the sea. 25 

For thy dark cloud, with umber'd lower, 

That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower. 

Thou gleam 'st against the western ray 

Ten thousand lines of brighter day. 



>' ct^vf 



III 

Not she, the Championess of old. 
In Spenser's magic tale enroll'd. 
She for the charmed spear renown 'd, 
Which forced each knight to kiss the ground, — 
Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, s 

What time she was Malbecco's guest. 
She gave to flow her maiden vest ; 
When from the corslet's grasp relieved, 
Free to the sight her bosom heaved ; 
Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, 10 

Erst hidden by the aventayle ; 
And down her shoulders graceful roU'd 
Her locks profuse, of paly gold. 
They who whilom, in midnight fight. 
Had marveird at her matchless might, 15 

No less her maiden charms approved, 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH 197 

But looking liked, and liking loved. 

The sight could jealous pangs beguile, 

And charm Malbecco's cares a while; 
20 And he, the wandering Squire of Dames, 

Forgot his Oolumbella's claims. 

And passion, erst unknown, could gain 

The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane; 

Nor durst light Paridel advance, 
25 Bold as he was, a looser glance. 

She charm'd, at once, and tamed the heart, 

Incomparable Britomarte! 

IV 

So thou, fair City! disarray'd 

Of battle wall, and rampart's aid, 

As stately seem'st, but lovelier far 

Than in that panoply of war. 
5 Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne 

Strength and security are flown ; 

Still, as of yore. Queen of the North ! 

Still canst thou send thy children forth, j 

Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call / 

10 Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, 1 

Than now, in danger, shall be thine, / 

Thy dauntless voluntary line ; 

For fosse and turret proud to stand, ' 

Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. 
15 Thy thousands, train'd to martial toil, 

Full red would stain their native soil. 

Ere from thy mural crown there fell 



198 /. MARMION 

The slightest knosp, or pinnacle. 

And if it come, — as come it may, 

Dun-Edin! that eventful day, — 20 

Eenown'd for hospitable deed, 

That virtue much with Heaven may plead, 

In patriarchal times whose care 

Descending angels deign'd to share; 

That claim may wrestle blessings down J 

On those who fight for The Good Town, 

Destined in every age to be 

Eefuge of injured royalty; T 

Since first/when conquering York arose. 

To Henry-meek she gave repose. 

Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe. 

Great Bourbon ^^grelics, sad she saw. 



Truce to these thoughts! — for, as they rise, 
How gladly I avert mine eyes, 
Bodings, or true or false, to change 
For Fiction's fair romantic range. 
Or for Tradition's dubious light, 5 

That hovers 'twixt the day and night : 
Dazzling alternately and dim. 
Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim. 
Knights, squires, and lovely dames, to see, 
Creation of my fantasy, 10 

Than gaze abroad on reeky fen. 
And make of mists invading men. — 
Who loves not more the night of June 




// 



> *;'-^lO / 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH 199 

Than dull December's gloomy noon? 
15 The moonlight than the fog of frost? 
And can we say, which cheats the most? 

VI 

But who shall teach my harp to gain 

A sound of the romantic strain 

Whose Anglo-Norman tones ^whilejp^ ^«.^»--^5K^ 

Could win the royal Henry's ^ar, ^ 

5 Famed Beauclerc call'd, for that he loved 

The minstrel and his lay approved? 

Who shall these lingering notes redeem, 

Decaying on Oblivion's stream; 

Such notes as from the Breton tongue 
10 Marie translated, Blondel sung? — 

! born, Time's ravage to repair 

And make the dying Muse thy care ; 

Who, when his scythe her hoary foe 

Was poising for the final blow, 
15 The weapon from his hand could wring. 

And break his glass, and shear his wing, 

And bid, reviving in his strain. 

The gentle poet live again ; 

Thou, who canst give to lightest lay 
20 An unpedantic moral gay. 

Nor less the dullest theme bid flit 

On wings of unexpected wit ; 

In letters as in life approved. 

Example honour 'd, and beloved, — 
25 Dear Ellis! to the bard impart 



300 MARMION 

A lesson of thy magic art, 
To win at once the head and heart, — 
At once to charm, instruct and mend, 
My guide, my pattern, and my friend! 

VII 

Such minstrel lesson to bestow 
Be long thy pleasing task, — but, ! 
No more by thy example teach, 
— What few can practice, all can preach, — 
With even patience to endure s 

Lingering disease and painful cure. 
And boast affliction's pangs subdued 
By mild and manly fortitude. 
Enough, the lesson has been given: 
Forbid the repetition. Heaven ! lo 

VIII 

Come listen, then ! for thou hast known. 
And loved the Minstrel's varying tone. 
Who, like his Border sires of old. 
Waked a wild measure rude and bold. 
Till Windsor's oaks and Ascot plain 5 

With wonder heard the northern strain. 
Come listen ! bold in thy applause. 
The bard shall scorn pedantic laws ; 
And, as the ancient art could stain 
Achievements on the storied pane, 10 

Irregularly traced and plann'd, 
But yet so glowing and so grand, — 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH 201 

So shall he strive, in changeful hue, 
Field, feast, and combat to renew, 
15 And loves, and arms, and harper's glee, 
And all the pomp of chivalry. 



CANTO FIFTH 

The Court 



I 

The train has left the hills of Braid ; 
The barrier guard have open made 
(So Lindesay bade) the palisade 

That closed the tented ground : 
Their men the warders backward drew, 
And carried pikes as they rode through 

Into its ample bound. 
Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, 
Upon the Southern band to stare. 
And envy with their wonder rose, 
To see such well-appointed foes; 
Such length of shafts, such mighty bows, 
So huge, that many simply thought. 
But for a vaunt such weapons wrought ; 
And little deem'd their force to feel 
Through links of mail and plates of steel, 
When rattling upon Flodden yale, 
The cloth-yai'd arrows flew like hail. * 

II 

Nor less did Marmion's skilful view 
Glance every line and squadron through ; 
And much he marvell'd one small land 

203 



\\^' 



10 



15 



CANTO FIFTH 203 

Could marshal forth such various band : 
5 For men-at-arms were here, 

Heavily sheathed in mail and plate, 

Like iron towers for strength and weight, 

On Flemish steeds of bone and height, 
With battle-axe and spear. 
10 Young knights and squires, a lighter train, 

Practised their chargers on the plain, 

By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, 
/ ^ .) ^oh warlike feat to show, ^. w^ 

^/Vf Ygj^^^gg^ to/wheel; the croupe to gain, 
15 And high ciifvpttj that hdt in vain 

The sword sway might descend amain 
On foeman's casque below. 

He saw the hardy burghers there 

March arm'd, on foot, with faces bare, 
20 For vizor they wore none. 

Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight ; 

But burnished were their corslets bright. 

Their bfigaiitines and gorgets light 
Like very silver shone. 
25 Long pikes they had for standing fight, 

, Two-handed swords ^hey wore. 

And many wielded made of weight, 
And bucklers bright they bore. 

Ill 

On foot the yeoman too, but dress'd 
In his steel-jack, d swarthy vest. 
With iron quilted well ; 



J 



204 MAEMION ^ V 



Each at his back (a slender store) 

His forty days' provision bore, 5 

As feudal statutes tell.^^i' / ^ h 

His arms were halbert, axe, or spe^r, ' ^ 

A crossbow there, a hagbut here, ' 

A dagger-knife, and brand. ^ jl/^# 

Sober he seem'd and sad of cheer, l^Jt%^yy^^^'J>^^ 10 
As loth to leave his cottage dear 

And march to foreign strand ; 
Or musing who would guide his steer 

To till the fallow land. 
Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye is 

Did aught of dastard tei-ror lie; 

More dreadful far his ire 
Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name, 
In eager mood to battle came, 
Their valour like straw on flame,x 29 

A fierce but fading fire. 

Not so the Borderer : — bAd to war. 
He knew the battle's din afar. 

And joy'd to hear it swell. 
His peaceful day was slothful ease ; 
Nor harp nor pipe his ear could please 5 

Like the loud slogan yell. ^- 

On active steed, with lance and blade, 
The light-arm'd pricker plied his trade, — 

Let nobles fight for fame ; 
Let vassals follow where they lead, 10 



CANTO FIFTH 205 

Burghers to guard their townships bleed, 
But war's the Borderer's game. 

Their gain, their glory, their delight, 

To sleep the day, maraud the night, 
15 O'er mountain, moss, and moor; 

Joyful to fight they took their way. 

Scarce caring who might win the day, 
Their booty was secure. 

These, as Lord Marmion's train pass'd by, 
20 Look'd on at first with careless eye, 

Nor marvell'd aught, well taught to know 

The form and force of English bow. 

But when they saw the Lord array'd 

In splendid arms and rich brocade, 
25 Each Borderer to his kinsman said, — 
"Hist, Ringan! seest thou there! 

Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride? — 

! could we but on Border side, 

By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide, 
30 Beset a prize so fair ! 

That fangless Lion, too, their guide. 

Might chance to lose his glistering hide ; 

Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied, 
Could make a kirtle rare." 



V 



v.. 



Next, Marmion mark'd the Celtic race, 
Of different language, form, and face, 

A various race of man ; 
Just then the Chiefs their tribes array'd. 



^ 



And wild andf^garish semblance made 
The chequer 'd trews, and belted plaid, 
And varying notes the war-pipes bray 'd/ * 

To every varying clan ; 
Wild through their red or sable hair 
Look'd out their eyes with savage stare lo 

On Marmion as he pass'd; 
Their legs above the knee were bare ; 
Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, 

And hardened to the blast; 
Of taller race, the chiefs they own | , 15 

Were by the eagle's plumage known. '! ^ 

The hunted Eed-deer's undress 'd hide 
Their hairy buskins well supplied; > ^ 
The graceful bonnet deck'd their head: 
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid ; sa 

A broadsword of unwieldy length, 
A dagger proved for, edget' and strength, 

A studded targe they wore,^^ ,^^ js^aaA^ l^ 
And quivers, bows, and shafts, — ^but, 0! 
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, 25 

To that which England bore. 
The Isles-men carried at their backs 
The ancient Danish battle-axe. 
They raised a wild and wondering cry, 
As with his guide rode Marmion by. ^ 30 

Loud were their clamouring tongues as when 
The clanging sea-fowl leave the fen, .3^ ^* ;| 
And, with their cries discordant mix'd. 
Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt. 



CANTO FIFTH 207 



VI 



Thus through the Scottish camp they pass'd, 
And reach 'd the City gate at last, 
Where all around, a wakeful guard, 
Arm'd burghers kept their watch and waa'd. 
5 Well had they cause of jealous fear, 
When lay encamp 'd in field so near 
The Borderer and the Mountaineer. 
As through the bustling streets they go, 
All was alive with martial show : 



? 



/ 



10 At every turn, with dinning clang, / 

The armourer's anvil clash 'd and rang; sj 
Or toil'd the swarthy smith, to wheel 
The bar that arms the charger's heel; / 
Or axe, or falchion, to the side ^ c^W 

15 Of jarring grindstone was applied. 

Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace. 
Through street and lane and market-place, a 
Bore lance, or casque, or sword;^^U^uJ- ^'^ 
While burghers, with important face, 

20 Described each new-come lord. 
Discuss 'd his lineage, told his name, 
His following, and his warlike fame. 
The Lion led to lodging meet, 
Which high o'erlook'd the crowded street; 

25 There must the Baron rest 
Till past the hour of vesper tide, 
And then to Holy-Rood must ride, — 
Such was the King's behest. 



208 MARMION 

Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns 

A banquet rich and costly wines 30 

To Marmion and his train ; 
And when the appointed hour succeed&|. 
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds, \h 
And following Lindesay as he leads, \ 

The palace-halls they gain. 35 

YII 

Old Holy-Rood rung merrily 

That night with wassell, mirth, and glee: 

King James within her princely bower 

Feasted the Chiefs of Scotland's power, 

Summon'd to spend the parting hour; 5 

For he had charged that his array 

Should southward march by break of day. 

Well loved that splendid monarch aye 

The banquet and the song. 
By day the tourney, and by night 10 

The merry dance, traced fast and light, 
The maskers quaint, the pageant bright. 

The revel loud and long. 
This feast outshone his banquets past ; 
It was his blithest — and his last. 15 

The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay, 
Cast on the Court a dancing ray ; 
Here to the harp did minstrels sing; 
There ladies touch'd a softer string; 
With long-ear 'd cap and motley vest, ao 

The licensed fool retail'd his jest; 



CANTO FIFTH 






I 




His magic tricks the juggler plied; 
At dice and draughts the gallants vied; 
While some, in close recess apart, 
25 Courted the ladies of their heart, 

Nor courted them in vain ; 
/For often in the parting hour \ 
f Victorious Love asserts his power . A 

O'er coldness and disdain; I U 

30 And flinty is her heart, can view I 

To battle march a lover true — 
Can hear, perchance, his last adieu, 
Nor oyn her share of pain. ^ 

VIII 

Through this mix'd crowd of glee and game, 
The King to greet Lord Marmion came. 

While, reverent, all made room. 
An easy task it was, I trow, 
5 King James's manly form to know, 
Although, his courtesy to show. 
He doff'd to Marmion bending low, 

His broider'd cap and plume. 
For royal was his garb and mien, 
10 His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, 

Trimm'd with the fur of martin wild; 
His vest of changeful satin sheen, 

The dazzled eye beguiled ; 
His gorgeous collar hung adown, 
15 Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown, 
The thistle brave, of old renown : 






210 ||1 MARMION ' 

His trusty blade, Toledo right, 

Descended from a baldi'ic bright ; 

White were his buskins, on the heel 

His spurs inlaid of gold and steel ; at 

His bonnet, all of crimson fair. 

Was button'd with a ruby rare : 

And Marmion deem'd he ne'er had seen 

A prince of such a noble mien. 

IX 

The Monarch's form was middle size; 
For feat of strength, or exercise. 

Shaped in proportion fair ; 
And hazel was his eagle eye, 
And auburn of the darkest dye 5 

His short curl'd beard and hair. 
Light was his footstep in the dance. 

And firm his stirrup in the lists ; 
And, oh ! he had that merry glance, 

That seldom lady's heart resists. i« 

Lightly from fair to fair he flew. 
And loved to plead, lament, and sue; — 

(Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain,\ \ \ 
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain. J \ ^ 
•^ I said he joy'd in banquet bower; 15 

But, 'mid his mirth, 'twas often strange. 
How suddenly his cheer would change. 

His look o'ercast and lower, 
If, in a sudden turn, he felt 
The pressure of his iron belt, 20 



CANTO FIFTH 211 



That bound his breast in penance pain, 
In memory of his father slain. 
Even so 'twas strange how, evermore. 
Soon as the passing pang was o'er, 

25 Forward he rush'd, with double glee. 
Into the stream of revelry : 
Thus, dim -seen object of affright 
Startles the courser in his flight. 
And half he halts, half springs aside; 

30 But feels the quickening spur applied. 
And, straining on the tighten'd rein. 
Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain. 

X 



O'er James's heart, the courtiers say. 
Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway; X 

I To Scotland's Court she came, ^ qfY^ 

1 ij To be a hostage for her lord, C^ - ' ^^ -^ ""' 

4 ' 5 Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored. 
And with the King to make accord. 

Had sent his lovely dame. 
Nor to that lady free alone 
Did the gay King allegiance own; 
10 For the fair Queen of France 
Sent him a turquois ring and glove, 
And charged him, as her knight and love^ ^^ 

For her to break a lance ; ^\MMAA^'f/^ 
And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, 
15 And march three miles on Southron land, 
And bid the banners of his band 



212 MARMION 

In English breezes dance. 
And thus, for France's Queen he drest 
His manly limbs in mailed vest ; 
And thus, admitted English fah 2§ 

His inmost counsels still to share ; 
And thus, for both, he madly plann'd 
The ruin of himself and land ! 

And yet, the sooth to tell, 
Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen, 25 

Were worth one pearl drop, bright and sheen, 

From Margaret's eyes that fell, — 
His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower. 
All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. 

XI 

The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, 

And weeps the weary day, 
The war against her native soil 
Her Monarch's risk in battle broil 
And in gay Holy-Eood, the while, 
Dame Heron rises with a smile 

Upon the harp to play. 
Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er 

The strings her fingers flew ; 
And as she touch 'd and tuned them all, 
Ever her bosom's rise and fall 

Was plainer given to view ; 
For, all for heat, was laid aside 
Her wimple, and her hood untied 
And first she pitch'd her voice to sing, 






CANTO FIFTH 213 

Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 

And then around the silent ring ; 

And laugh 'd, and blush 'd, and oft did say 
/ Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, 
|o She could not, would not, durst not 

At length, upon the harp, with glee. 

Mingled with arch simplicity, 

A soft, yet lively, air she rung, 

While thus the wily lady sung : — 



XII 

LOCHINYAR 

Lady Heron's Song 

0, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, 
Through all the wide Border his steed was the 

best; 
And save his good broadsword, he weapons had 

none. 
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. 
5 So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for 

stone. 
He swam the Eske river where ford there was 

none; 
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate. 



214 MARMION 

The bride had consented, the gallant came. late; lo 
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, 

Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, 

and all : 
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his is 

sword, 
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a 

word,) 
"0 come ye in peace here, or come ye in war. 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Loch- 
invar?" — 

*'I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ; — 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its 20 

tide — ,■ 

And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Loch- 
invar." 

The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up, 25 
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the 

cup. 
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to 

sigh. 
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 



CANTO FIFTH 215 

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could 
bar, — 
30 **Now tread we a measure!" said young Loch- 
invar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, /^^^^^^ ^ 
That never a hall such a galliard did gra<^e ; 
While her mother did fret, and her father did 

fume. 
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet 

and plume ; 
35 And the bride-maidens whisper 'd, '' 'Twere 

better by far, 
To have match 'd our fair cousin with young 

Lochinvar." 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
When they reach'd the hall -door, and the charger 

stood near; kf^J ^' f' ^XO'V-^^ 

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, > 
40 So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 

*'She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and 

scaur; ' ; . . . 

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth 

young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Neth- 

erbyclan; r / , ^^^14^ 

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode 
and they ran : 



216 MARMION 

There was racing and chasing, on Oannobie Lee, 45 
But the lost bride of Nether by ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
Hare ye e'er heard of gallant like young Loch- 
inyar? 

XIII 

The monarch o'er the siren hung, 

And beat the measure as she sung ; 

And, pressing closer, and more near, 

He whisper'd praises in her ear. 

In loud applause the courtiers vied ; 5 

And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside. 

The witching dame to Marmion threw 
A glance, where seem'd to reign 

The pride that claims applauses due, 

And of her royal conquest too, 1® 

A real or feign 'd disdain: 
Familiar was the look, and told, 
Marmion and she were friends of old. 
The King observed their meeting eyes. 
With something like displeased surprise ; is 

For monarchs ill can rivals brook. 
Even in a word, or smile, or look. 
Straight took he forth the parchment broad, 
Which Marmion's high commission show'd: ^^r 

^'Our Borders sack'd by many a raid, 29 

Our peaceful liege-men robb'd," he sgCid; 
'^On day of truce our Warden slain, 
Stout Barton kill'd, his vassals ta'en — 



1^ 



CANTO FIFTH 217 

Unworthy were we here to reign, 
25 Should these for vengeance cry in vain ; 
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn, 
Our herald has to Henry borne." 

XIV 

He paused, and led where Douglas stood, 
And with stern eye the pageant view'd: 
I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore, 
Who coronet of Angus bore, 
5 And, when his blood and heart were high, 
Did the third James in camp defy, 
And all his minions led to die 

On Lauder's dreary flat: 
Princes and favourites long grew tame, 
10 And trembled at the homely name 

Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat ; 
The same who left the dusky vale 
Of Hermitage in Liddisdale, 

Its dungeons, and its towers, 
15 Where Both well's turrets brave the air, 
And Bothwell bank is blooming fair. 

To fix his princely bowers. 
Though now, in age, he had laid down 
His armour for the peaceful gown, 
20 And for a staff his brand. 

Yet often would fiash forth the fire. 
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire 

And minion's pride withstand; 






A/Sy^A i 




218 MARMION 

And even that day, at council board, 
Unapt to soothe his sovereign's mood, 
Against the war had Angus stood, 

And chafed his royal lord. 

XV ^■ 

His giant form, like ruin'd tower, 
Though fall'n its muscles' brawny vaunt. 
Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt, 

Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower : 
His locks and beard in silver grew ; 5 

His eyebrows kept their sable hue. 
Near Douglas when the Monarch stood, 
His bitter speech he thus pursued: 
"Lord Marmion, since these letters say. 
That in the North you needs must stay, lo 

While slightest hopes of peace remain, 
Uncourteous speech it were, and stern, 
To say — Return to Lindisfarne, 

Until my herald come again. — 
Then rest you in Tantallon Hold ; is 

Your host shall be the Douglas bold, — 
A chief unlike his sires of old. 
He wears their motto on his blade. 
Their blazon o'er his towers display'd; 
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose, 30 

More than to face his country's foes. 
And, I bethink me, by St. Stephen, 

But e'en this morn to me was given 
A prize, the first fruits of the war, 



CANTO FIFTH 



219 



25 Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar, 
A bevy of the maids of Heaven. 
Under your guard, these holy maids 
Shall safe return to cloister sha^des, 
And, while they at Tantallon ^ay, 

30 Eequiem for Cochran's soul may say 

And, with the slaugliter'd favourite's name, 
Across the Monarch's brow there came 
A cloud of ire, remorse and shame. 

XVI 

In answer nought could Angus speak ; 
His proud heart swell'd well nigh to break: 
He turn'd aside, and down his cheek 

A burning tear there stole. 
5 His hand the Monarch sudden took. 
That sight his kind heart could not brook : 

*'Now, by the Bruce's soul, 
Angus, my hasty speech forgive! 
For sure as doth his spirit live. 
As he said of the Douglas old, 

I well may say of you, — 
That never King did subject hold. 
In speech more free, in war more bold, \y^ 

More tender and more true : 
Forgive me, Douglas, once again." — 
And, while the King his hand did strain, 
The old man's tears fell down like rain. 
To seize the moment Marmion tried. 
And whisper 'd to the King aside : 




10 




220 MARMION 

''Oh! let such tears unwonted plead 
Jor respite short from dubious deed !,_ 
A child will weep a bramble's smart, 
A maid to see her sparrow part, 
A stripling for a woman's heart : 
But woe awaits a country, when 25 

She sees the tears of bearded men. _^,j^ 
Then, oh! what omen, dark and high, 
When Douglas wets his manly eye!" 





XVII 

Displeased was James, that stranger view'd 

And tamper 'd with his changing mood. ' \^ 
,'^' Laugh those that can, weep those that may,' 
I Thus did the fiery Monarch say, 
V' Southward I march by break of da 

AM-if within Tantallon strong. 

The good Lord Marmion tarries long, * / 

Perchance our meeti]ig nest /may fall ^\jL(ii/^ 

At Tamworth, in His castle-hall." — 

The haughty Marmion felt the taunt, i« 

And answer 'd, grave, the royal vaunt: 

"Much honour 'd were my humble home, 

If in its halls King James should come ; 

But Nottingham has archers good. 

And Yorkshiremen are stern of mood ; 15 

Northumbrian prickers wild and rude. 

On Derby hills the paths are steep ; 

In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep ; 



/ 

Y 



CANTO FIFTH 321 

And many a banner will be torn, 
20 And many a knigbt to earth be borne, 
And many a sheaf of arrows spent, 
Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent : 
Yet pause, brave Prince, while yet yon may!" — 
The Monarch lightly tm-n'd away, 
25 And to his nobles loud did call, — 
^'Lords, to the dance, — a hall! a hall!" 
Himself his cloak and sword flung by. 
And led Dame Heron gallantly ; 
And minstrels, at the royal order, 
30 Kung out — "Blue Bonnets o'er the ^order." 

XVIII 

Leave we these revels now, to tell 

What to Saint Hilda's maids befell,! 

Whose galley, as they sail'd again 

To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'en. 
5 Now at Dun-Edin did they bide, 

Till James should of their fate decide ; 
And soon, by his command. 

Were gently summon'd to prepare 

To journey under Marmion's care, 
10 As escort honour 'd, safe, and fair, 
Again to English land. 

The Abbess told her chaplet o'er, 

Nor knew which saint she should implore ; 

For, when she thought of Constance, sore 
15 She fear'd Lord Marmion's mood. 




222 MARMION 

And judge what Clara must have felt ! 
The sword, that hung in Marmion's belt, 

Had drunk De Wilton's blood. 
Unwittingly, King James had given, 

As guard to Whitby's shades, 20 

The man most dreaded under Heaven 

By these defenceless maids : 
Yet what petition could avail. 
Or who would listen to the tale 

Of woman, prisoner, and nun, 25 

'Mid bustle of a war begun? 
They deem 'd it hopeless to avoid 
The convoy of their dangerous guide. 

XIX 

Their lodging, so the King assign'd. 
To Marmion's, as their guardian, join'd; 
And thus it fell, that, passing nigh. 
The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye. 

Who warn'd him by a scroll, 5 

She had a secret to reveal. 
That much concern'd the Church's weal, 

And health of sinner's soul. 
And, with deep charge of secrecy. 

She nam'd a place to meet, 10 

Within an open balcony. 
That hung from dizzy pitch, and high, 

Above the stately street ; 
To which, as common to each home, 
At night they might in secret come. 15 



CANTO FIFTH 223 



XX 



At night, in secret, there they came, 
The Palmer and the holy Dame. 
The moon among the clouds rose high. 
And all the city hum was by. 
5 Upon the street, where late before 
Did din of war and warriors roar. 

You might have heard a pebble fall, 
A beetle hum, a cricket sing, 
An owlet flap his boding wing 
10 On Giles's steeple tall. 

The antique buildings, climbing high. 
Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky. 

Were here wrapt deep in shade ; 
There on their brows the moonbeam broke, 
15 Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke, 
And on the casements play'd. 
And other light was none to see, 

* Save torches gliding far. 
Before some chieftain of degree, 
20 Who left he royal revelry 

To bowne him for the war. — 
A solemn scene the Abbess chose ; 
A solemn hour, her secret to disclose. 

XXI 

*'0, holy Palmer!" she began, — 
''For sure he must be sainted man. 
Whose blessed feet have trod the ground 



224 MARMION 

Where the Eedeemer's tomb is found, — 

For His dear Chureh's sake, my tale 5 

Attend, nor deem of light avail, 

Though I must speak of worldly love, — 

How vain to those who wed above I — 

De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd 

Clara de Clai^e, of Gloster's blood; 10 

(Idle it were of Whitby's dame. 

To say of that same blood I came ;) 

And once, when jealous rage was high, 

Lord Marmion said despiteously, 

Wilton was traitor in his heart, 15 

And had made league with Martin Swart, 

When he came here on Simnel's part; 

And only cowardice did restrain 

His rebel aid on Stokefi eld's plain, — 

And down he threw his glove : — the thing 20 

Was tried, as wont, before the King; 

Where fi-ankly did De Wilton own, 

That Swart in Gueldres he had known ; 

And that between them then there went 

Some scroll of courteous compliment. 25 

For this he to his castle sent ; 

But when his messenger return'd. 

Judge how De Wilton's fury burn'd! 

For in his packet there were laid 

Letters that claim'd disloyal aid, so 

And proved King Henry's cause betray 'd. 

His fame, thus blighted, in the field 

He strove to clear by spear and shield ; — 



CANTO FIFTH 225 

To clear his fame in vain he strove, 
85 For wondrous are His ways above ! 
Perchance some form was unobserved; 
Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved; 
Else how could guiltless champion quail, 
Or how the blessed ordeal fail? 

XXII 

^'His squire, who now De Wilton saw 
As recreant doom'd to suffer law. 

Repentant, own'd in vain. 
That, while he had the scrolls in care, 
5 A stranger maiden, passing fair, 
Had drench'd him with a beverage rare; 

His words no faith could gain. 
With Clare alone he credence won, 
Who, rather than wed Marmion, 
10 Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, 
To give our house her livings fair. 
And die a vestal vot'ress there. 
The impulse from the earth was given, 
But bent her to the paths of heaven. 
15 A purer heart, a lovelier maid, ; 

Ne'er sheltered her in Whitby's shade, ; 

No, not since Saxon Edelfled; < 

Only one trace of earthly strain. 
That for her lover's loss 
20 She cherishes a sorrow vain. 

And murmurs at the cross. — 
And then her heritage ; — it goes 



226 MARMION 

Along the banks of Tame ; 

Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, 

In meadows rich the heifer lows, se 

The falconer and huntsman knows 
Its woodlands for the game. 
Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear. 
And I, her humble Yot'ress here, 

Should do a deadly sin, so 

Her temple spoird before mine eyes. 
If this false Marmion such a prize 

By my consent should win ; 
Yet hath our boisterous Monarch sworn 
That Clare shall from our house be torn ; 35 

And grievous cause have I to fear, 
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear. 

XXIII 

*'Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray 'd 
To evil power, I claim thine aid. 

By every step that thou hast trod 
To holy shrine and grotto dim, 

By every martyr's tortured limb, 5 

By angel, saint, and seraphim. 

And by the Church of God ! 
For mark: — When Wilton was betray'd, 
And with his squire forged letters laid. 
She was, alas ! that sinful maid 10 

By whom the deed was done, — 
! shame and horror to be said ! 

She was a perjured nun ! 



CANTO FIFTH 227 

No clerk in all the land, like her, 
15 Traced quaint and varying character. 
Perchance you may a marvel deem, 

That Mar mien's paramour 
(For such vile thing she was) should scheme 

Her lover's nuptial hour; 
20 But o'er him thus she hoped to gain, 
As privy to his honour's stain, 

Illimitable power : 
For this she secretly retain'd 

Bach proof that might the plot reveal, 
26 Instructions with his hand and seal ; 
And thus Saint Hilda deigned, 

Through sinner's perfidy impure, 

Her house's glory to secure. 
And Clare's immortal weal. 

XXIV 

** 'Twere long, and needless, here to tell. 
How to my hand these papers fell ; 

With me they must not stay. 
Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true ! 
5 Who knows what outrage he might do. 

While journeying by the way? — 

blessed Saint, if e'er again 

1 venturous leave thy calm domain, 
To travel or by land or main, 

10 Deep penance may I pay ! — 

Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer: 
I give this packet to thy care, 



228 MARMION 

For thee to stop they will not dare ; 

And ! with cautious speed, 
To Wolsey's hand the papers bring, 15 

That he may show them to the King : 

And, for thy well-earn 'd meed, 
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine 
A weekly mass shall still be thine. 

While priests can sing and read. — 20 

What ail'st thou?— Speak !" For as he took 
The charge, a strong emotion shook 

His frame ; and, ere reply. 
They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone. 
Like distant clarion feebly blown, 25 

That on the breeze did die ; 
And loud the Abbess shriek'd in fear, 
*' Saint Withold, save us! What is here? 

Look at yon City Cross ! 
See on its battled tower appear m 

Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear 

And blazon'd banners toss!" — 

XXV 

Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar 'd stone, 

Kose on a turret octagon ; 

(But now is razed that monument, 

Whence royal edict rang, 
And voice of Scotland's law was sent 6 

In glorious trumpet-clang. 
! be his tomb as lead to lead, 
Upon its dull destroyer's head! 



CANTO FIFTH 229 

A minstrers malison is said.) — 

10 Then on its battlements they saw 

A vision, passing Nature's law, 

Strange, wild, and dimly seen; 
Figures that seem'd to rise and die, 
Gibber and sign, advance and fly, 
15 While nought confirm 'd could ear or eye 
Discern of sound or mien. 
Yet darkly did it seem, as there 
Heralds and pursuivants prepare. 
With trumpet sound, and blazon fair 
20 A summons to proclaim ; 

But indistinct the pageant proud. 
As fancy forms of midnight cloud. 
When flings the moon upon her shroud 
A wavering tinge of flame ; 
25 It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, 

From midmost of the spectre crowd, * / 

This awful summons came :— ^ , ^J^ 

''Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, ^'^^^ 

Whose names I now shall call, 
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear ! 
Subjects of him who sent me here, 
5 At his tribunal to appear, 

I summon one and all : 
I cite you by each deadly sin. 
That e'er hath soil'd your hearts within, 
I cite youJ^ each brutal lust. 



230 MARMION 

That e'er defil'd your earthly dust, — lo 

By wrath, by pride, by fear, 
By each o'er -mastering passion's tone, 
By the dark grave, and dying groan! 
When forty days are pass'd and gone, 
I cite you, at your Monarch's throne, 15 

To answer and appear." — 
Then thunder 'd forth a roll of names: — 
The first was thine, unhappy James ! 

Then all thy nobles came ; 
Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, ao 

Boss, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle, — 
Why should I tell their separate style? 

Each chief of birth and fame, \ 

Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle, 
Fore-doom'd to Flodden's carnage pile, 

Was cited there by name ; 
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Lutterward, and Scrivelbaye; ^ 
De Wilton, erst of Aberley, 
The self -same thundering voice did say. — 30 

But then another spoke : 
*'Thy fatal summons I deny 
And thine infernal Lord defy. 
Appealing me to Him on High 

Who burst the sinner's yoke. " 35 

At that dread accent, with a scream, 
Parted the pageant like a dream, 

The summoner was gone. 
Prone on her face the Abbess fell, 



'^^ 




CANTO FIFTH 231 

40 And fast, and fast, her beads did tell; 
Her nuns came, startled by the yell, 

And found her there alone. 
She mark'd not, at the scene aghast. 
What time, or how, the Palmer pass'd. 

XXVII 

Shift we the scene. — The camp doth move, 

Dun-Edin's streets are empty now. 
Save when, for weal of those they love, 

To pray the prayer and vow the vow, 
5 The tottering child, the anxious fair. 
The grey -hair 'd sire, with pious care, 
To chapels and to shrines repair — 
Where is the Palmer now? and where 
The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare? — 
10 Bold Douglas ! to Tantallon fair 

They journey in thy charge : 
Lord Marmion rode on his right hand, 
The Palmer still was with the band; 
Angus, like Lindesay, did command, 
15 That none should roam at large. 
But in that Palmer's altered mien 
A wondrous change might now be seen, 

Freely he spoke of war. 
Of marvels wrought by single hand 
20 When lifted for a native land; 

And still look'd high, as if he plann'd 

Some desperate deed afar. 
His courser would he feed and stroke, 



^ 



232 MARMION 

And, tucking up hj^ sable frocke, 

Would first his mettle bold proToke, 25 

Then soothe or quell his pride. 
Old Hubert said that never one 
He saw, except Lord Marmion, 

A steed so fairly ride. 

XXVIII 

Some half -hour's march behind, there came, 

By Eustace goyern'd fair, 
A troop escorting Hilda's Dame, 

With all her nuns and Clare. 
No audience had Lord Marmion sought ; 5 

Ever he fear'd to aggravate 

Clara de Clare's suspicious hate; 
And safer 'twas, he thought, 

To wait till, from the nuns removed. 

The influence of kinsmen loved, 10 

And suit by Henry's self approved. 
Her slow consent had wrought. 

His was no flickering flame, that dies 

Unless when fann'd by looks and sighs. 

And lighted oft at lady's eyes ; 15 

He long'd to stretch his wide command 

O'er luckless Clara's ample land: 

Besides, when Wilton with him vied, 

Although the pang of humbled pride 

The place of jealousy supplied, 20 

Yet conquest by that meanness won 
He almost loath 'd to think upon, 



CANTO FIFTH 233 

Led him, at times, to hate the cause, 
Which made him burst through honour's laws. 
25 If e'er he loved, 'twas her alone. 
Who died within that vault of stone. 

XXIX 

And now, when close at hand they saw 

North Berwick's town and lofty Law, 

Fitz-Eustace bade them pause awhile, 

Before a venerable pile, 
5 Whose ti^ptsiti6w'd, afar, 

The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle, 
The ocean's peace or war. 

At tolling of a bell, forth came 

The convent's venerable Dame, 
10 And pray'd Saint Hilda's Abbess rest 

With her, a loved and honour 'd guest, 

Till Douglas should a bark prepare 

To waft her back to Whitby fair. 

Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, 
15 And thank'd the Scottish Prioress; 

And tedious were to tell, I ween. 

The courteous speech that pass'd between. 
O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave; 

But when fair Clara did intend, 
20 Like them, from horseback to descend, 
Fitz-Eustace said, — ''I grieve. 

Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart. 

Such gentle company to part ; — 
Think not discourtesy. 



234 MARMION 

But lords' commands must be obey'd; 25 

And Marmion and the Douglas said 

That you must wend with me. 
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, 
Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd, 
Commanding that, beneath his care, 30 

Without delay you shall repair 
To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare." 

XXX 

The startled abbess loud exclaim 'd; 

But she, at whom the blow was aim'd. 

Grew pale as death and cold as lead, — 

She deem'd she heard her death-doom read. 

"Cheer thee, my child!" the Abbess said, s 

"They dare not tear thee from my hand. 

To ride alone with armed band." — 

"Nay, holy mother, nay," 
Fitz-Eustace said, "the lovely Clare 
Will be in Lady Angus' care, 10 

In Scotland while we stay ; 
And, when we move, an easy ride 
Will bring us to the English side. 
Female attendance to provide 

Befitting Gloster's heir: 15 

Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord, 
By slightest look, or act, or word. 

To harass Lady Clare. 
Her faithful guardian he will be, 
Nor sue for slightest courtesy 20 



CANTO FIFTH 235 

That e'en to stranger falls, 
Till he shall place her, safe and free, 

Within her kinsman's halls." -v \ fj 

/rie spoke, and bliish'd with earnest grace ^ 
2^ His faith was painted on his face, 
V. And Clare's worst fear relieved. 
The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd 
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed. 
Entreated, threaten'd, grieved; 
30 To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd, 
Against Lord Marmion inveigh 'd, i ^ 
And call'd the Prioress to aid. 
To curse with candle, bell, and book. 
Her head the grave Cistertian shook : 
35 ''The Douglas and the King," she said, 
''In their commands will be obey'd; 
Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall 
The maiden in Tantallon Hall." 

XXXI 

The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, 
Assumed her wonted state again, — 

For much of state she had, — 
Composed her veil, and raised her head, 
5 And — "Bid," in solemn voice she said, 

"Thy master, bold and bad. 
The records of his house turn o'er. 

And, when he shall there written see, 

That one of his own ancestry 
10 Drove the Monks forth of Coventry, 



236 MARMION 

Bid him his fate explore! 

Prancing in pride of earthly trust, 

His charger hurl'd him to the dust, 

And, by a base plebeian thrust, 
He died his band before. i» 

God judge 'twixt Marmion and me; 

He is a Chief of hio^h desn'ee, 
And I a poor recluse : 

Yet oft, in holy writ, we see 

Even such weak minister as me at 

May the oppressor bruise : 

For thus, insphed, did Judith slay 
The mighty in his sin, 
And Jael thus, and Deborah" — 

Here hasty Blount broke in: 25 

'Titz-Eustace, we must march our band; 
St. Anton' fii'e thee ! wilt thou stand 
All day, with bonnet in thy hand. 

To hear the lady preach? 
By this good hght ! if thus we stay, » 

Lord Marmion, for oui' fond delay, 

Will sharper sermon teach. 
Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse; 
The Dame must patience take perforce." — 

XXXII 

''Submit we then to force," said Clare, 
"But let this barbarous lord despair 
His purposed aim to win ; 



CANTO FIFTH 237 

Let him take living, land, and life ; 
5 But to be Marmion's wedded wife 
In me were deadly sin : 
And if it be the King's decree, 
That I must find no sanctuary, 
In that inviolable dome, 
10 Where even a homicide might come. 
And safely rest his head. 
Though at its open portals stood. 
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood, 
The kinsmen of the dead ; 
15 Yet one asylum is my own 
Against the dreaded hour ; 
A low, a silent, and a lone. 

Where kings have little power. 
One victim is before me there. — 
20 Mother, your blessing, and in prayer 
Eemember your unhappy Clare!" 
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows 

Kind blessings many a one : 
Weeping and wailing loud arose, 
25 Eound patient Clare, the clamorous woes 
Of every simple nun. 
His eyes the gentle Eustace dried. 
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide. 
, Then took the squire her rein, 
30 And gently led away her steed. 

And, by each courteous word and deed, 
To cheer her strove in vain. 




238 MARMION 

XXXIII 

But scant three miles the band had rode, 

When o'er a height they pass'd, 
And, sudden, close before them show'd 

His towers, Tantallon vast; 
Broad, massive, high, and stretching far, 
And held impregnable in war. 
On a projecting rock they rose, 
And round three sides the ocean flows. 
The fourth did battled walls enclose. 

And double mound and fosse, /^y 
By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong, 
Through studded gates, an entrance long, 

To the main court they cross. 
It was a wide and stately square : 
Around were lodgings, fit and fair, is 

And towers of various form, 
Which on the court projected far, 
And broke its jUnes^auadi^angular. 
Here was squa¥e'%eefc, tliere turret high, 
Or pinnacle that sought the sky, ao 

Whence oft the Wai'der could descry 

The gathering ocean storm. 

XXXIV 

Here did they rest. — The princely care 
Of Douglas, why should I declare. 
Or say they met reception fair? 
Or why the tidings say. 



CANTO FIFTH 239 

5 Which, varying, to Tantallon came, 

By hurrying posts, or fleeter fame, 
With every varying day? 

And, first, they heard King James had won 

Etall, and Wark, and Ford; and then, 
10 That Norham Castle strong was ta'en. 

At that sore marvell'd Marmion; — 

And Douglas hoped his monarch's hand 

Would soon subdue Northumberland : 
But whisper 'd news there came, 
15 That, while his host inactive lay, 

And melted by degrees away, 

King James was dallying off the day 
With Heron's wily dame. — 

Such acts to chronicles I yield; 
20 Go seek them there and see : 

Mine is a tale of Flodden Field, 
And not a history. — 

At length they heard the Scottish host 

On that high ridge had made their post, 
25 Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain, 

And that brave Surrey many a band 

Had gather 'd in the southern land. 

And march 'd into Northumberland, 
And camp at Wooler ta'en. 
30 Marmion, like charger in the stall. 

That hears, without, the trumpet-call, 
Began to chafe, and swear : — 

''A sorry thing to hide my head 

In castle, like a fearful maid. 



240 MARMION 



When such a field is neai' 



36 



Need5 must I see this battle- day: 
Death to my fame if such a fray 
Were fought, and Marmion awa^!^,.^^ 

The Douglas, too, I wot not ^^'af,' 
Hath 'bated of his courtesy : 
No longer in his halls I'll stay." 
Then bade his band they should array 
For march against the dawning day. 



40 




INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH 

TO KICHARD HEBER, ESQ. 

Mertoun- House ^ Christmas 
I 

Heap on more wood! — the wind is chill; 

But let it whistle as it will, 

We'll keep our Christmas merry still. 

Each age has deem'd the new-born year 
5 The fittest time for festal cheer : 

Evejij heathen yet^ the lavage Dane It v^ 

At lol Inore deep the fnead did drain; 

High on the beach his galleys drew, 

And feasted all his pirate crew ; 
10 Then in his low and pine-built hall. 

Where shields and axes deck'd the wall, 

They gorged upon the half-dress'd steer; 

Caroused in seas of sable beer ; 

While round, in brutal jest, were thrown 
15 The half -gnaw 'd rib, and marrow-bone. 

Or listened all, in grim delight, 

While Scalds yell'd out the ]oys of fight. 

Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie. 

While wildly-loose their red locks fly, 
20 And dancing round the blazing pile. 

They make such barbarous mirth the while, 

241 



243 MARMION 

As best might to the mind recall 
The boisterous joys of Odin's hall. 

II 

And well our Christian sires of old 
Loved when the year its course had roU'd, 
And brought blithe Christmas back again, 
With all his hospitable train. 

Domestic and religious rite 6 

Gave honour to the holy night ; 
On Christmas-eve the bells were rung; 
On Christmas-eve the mass was sung: 
That only night in all the year, 
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. lo 

The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen; 
The hall was dress 'd with holly green; 
Forth to the wood did merry-men go, 
To gather in the mistletoe. 

Then open'd wide the Baron's hall is 

To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; 
Power laid his rod of rule aside. 
And Ceremony doff 'd his pride. 
The heir, with roses in his shoes. 
That night might village partner choose ; 20 

The lord, underogating, share 
The vulgar game of "post and pair. " 
All hail'd, with uncontroU'd delight, 
And general voice, the happy night. 
That to the cottage, as the crown, 35 

Brought tidings of salvation down. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH 243 

III 

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 

Went roaring up the chimney wide ; 

The huge hall-table's oaken face, 

Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, 
5 Bore then upon its massive board 

N"o mark to part the squire and lord. 

Then was brought in the lusty brawn, 

By old blue-coated serving-man ; 

Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high, 
10 Crested with bays and rosemary. 

Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell, 

How, when, and where, the monster fell ; 

What dogs before his death he tore, 

And all the baiting of the boar. 
15 The wassel round, in good brown bowls, 

Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls. 

There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by 

Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie ; 

Nor fail'd old Scotland to produce, 
20 At such high-tide, her savoury goose. 

Then came the merry maskers in. 

And carols roar 'd with blithesome din ; 

If unmelodious was the song. 

It was a hearty note, and strong. 
25 Who lists may in their mumming see 

Traces of ancient mystery ; 

White shirts supplied the masquerade, 

And smutted cheeks the visors made ; 



244 MARMION 

But, ! what maskers, richly dight, 

Can boast of bosoms half so light ! so 

England was merry England, when 

Old Christmas brought his sports again. 

'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale; 

'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale ; 

A Christmas gambol oft could cheer 35 

The poor man's heart through half the year. 



IV 



Still linger, in our northern clime, 
Some remnants of the good old time ; 
And still, within our valleys here. 
We hold the kindred title dear. 
Even when, perchance, its far-fetch'd claim 5 

To Southron ear sounds empty name. 
For course of blood, our proverbs deem, 
Is warmer than the mountain-stream. 
And thus, my Christmas still I hold 
Where my great-grandsire came of old, 10 

With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 
And reverend apostolic air — 
The feast and holy -tide to share. 
And mix sobriety with wine, 

And honest mirth with thoughts divine : 15 

Small thought was his, in after time 
E'er to be hitch'd into a rhyme. 
The simple sire could only boast, 
That he was loyal to his cost ; 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH 245 

20 The banish'd race of kings revered, 
And lost his land, — but kept his beard. 



In these dear halls, where welcome kind 
Is with fair liberty combined ; 
Where cordial friendship gives the hand. 
And flies constraint the magic wand 

5 Of the fair dame that rules the land, 
Little we heed the tempest drear. 
While music, mirth, and social cheer. 
Speed on their wings the passing year. < 
And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now, j^ 

10 When not a leaf is on the bough. 



./ 



Tweed loves them well, and turns again,^^ 



As loath to leave the sweet domain, 
And holds his mirror to her face. 
And clips her with a close embrace : — 
15 Gladly as he, we seek the dome. 
And as reluctant turn us home. 

VI 

How just that, at this time of glee. 
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee! 
For many a merry hour we've known, 
And heard the chimes of midnight 's tone. 
5 Cease, then, my friend! a moment cease, 
And leave these classic tomes in peace ! 
Of Roman and of Grecian lore, 
Sure mortal brain can hold no more. 



246 MARMION 

These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say, 
''Were pretty fellows in their day;" lo 

But time and tide o'er all prevail- 
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale — 
Of wonder and of war — ''Profane! 
What ! leave the lofty Latian strain, 
Her stately prose, her verse's charms, 15 

To hear the clash of rusty arms : 
In Fairy Land or Limbo lost, 
To jostle conjurer and ghost, 
Goblin and witch!" — Nay, Heber dear, 
Before you touch my charter, hear ; 20 

Though Ley den aids, alas! no more. 
My cause with many-languaged lore. 
This may I say : — in realms of death^ 
Ulysses meets Alcides' wraith; 
^neas, upon Thracia's shore, 26 

The ghost of murder 'd Polydore; ? 

For omens, we in Livy cross, 7 1 >* 
At every turn, locutus Bos. "/{ Ik^ r ^- 
As grave and duly speaks that ox 
As if he told the price of stocks ; 30 

Or held, in Eome republican, 
The place of Common-councilman. 

VII 

All nations have their omens drear. 
Their legends wild of woe and fear. 
To Cambria look — the peasant see. 
Bethink him of Glendowerdy, 





INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH 247 

5 And shun ^Hhe spirit's Blasted Tree." 

The Highlander, whose red claymore.^^^. 

The battle turn'd on Maida's shore, 

Will, on a Friday morn, look pale, 

If ask'd to tell a fairy tale : 
10 He fears the vengeful Elfin King, 

Who leaves that day his grassy ring : 

Invisible to human ken. 

He walks among the sons of men. 

VIII 

Didst e'er, dear Heber, pass along 

Beneath the towers of Franchemont, 

Which, like an eagle's nest in air. 

Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair? 
5 Deep in their vaults, the peasants say, 

A mighty treasure buried lay. 

Amass 'd through rapine and through wrong 

By the last Lord of Franchemont. 

The iron chest is bolted hard, 
10 A huntsman sits, its constant guard; 

Around his neck his horn is hung. 

His hanger in his belt is slung ; 

Before his feet his blood-hounds lie : 

An 'twere not for his gloomy eye, 
15 Whose withering glance no heart can brook, 

As true a huntsman doth he look. 

As bugle e'er in brake did sound, 

Or ever holloo'd to a hound. 

To chase the fiend, and win the prize, 



248 MARMION 

In that same dungeon ever tries 20 

An aged Necromantic Priest ; 

It is an hundred years at least, 

Since 'twixt them first the strife begun, 

And neither yet has lost nor won. 

And oft the Conjurer's words will make 25 

The stubborn Demon groan and quake; 

And oft the bands of iron break. 

Or bursts one lock, that still amain, 

Fast as 'tis open'd, shuts again. 

That magic strife within the tomb 80 

May last until the day of doom, 

Unless the Adept shall learn to tell 

The very word that clench 'd the spell, 

When Franch'mont lock'd the treasure cell^ 

An hundred years are pass'd and gone, ss 

And scarce three letters has he won. 

IX 

Such general superstition may 
Excuse for old Pitscottie say ; 
Whose gossip history has given 
My song the messenger from Heaven, 
That warn'd, in J^tljgow, Scotland's Kinj 
Nor less the infernal summoning; 4^ 
May pass the Monk of Durham's tale, 
Whose demon fought in Gothic mail ; 
May pardon plead for Fordun grave, 
Who told of Gifford's Goblin-Cave. _ 10 / 

But why such instances to you, 





INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH 249 

Who, in an instant, can renew 

Your treasured hoards of various lore. 

And furnish twenty thousand more? 
15 Hoards, not like theirs whose volumes rest 

Like treasures in the Franch'mont chest, 

While gripple owners still refuse 

To others what they cannot use ; 

Give them the priest's whole century, 
20 They shall not spell you letters three ; 

Their pleasure in the books the same 

The magpie takes in pilfer 'd gem. 

Thy volumes, open as thy heart. 

Delight, amusement, science, art, 
35 To every ear and eye impart ; 

Yet who, of all who thus employ them. 

Can like the owner's self enjoy them? — 

But, hark! I hear the distant drum! 

The day of Flodden Field is come. — 
30 Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health, 

And store of literary wealth ! 



<s^^. "". 



CANTO SIXTH 

The Battle 



While great events were on the gale, 
And each hour brought a yarying tale, 
And the demeanour, changed and cold, 
Of Douglas, fretted Marmion bold, 
And, like the impatient steed of war, 5 

He snuff 'd the battle fi^om afar; ^ 
And hopes were none, that back again 
Herald should come from Terouenne, 
Where England's King in leaguer lay. 
Before decisive battle-day; 10 

Whilst these things were, the mournful Clare 
Did in the Dame's devotions shai'e: 
For the good Countess ceaseless pray'd 
To Heaven and Saints, her sons to aid, Vs^ 
j And, with short interval, did pass *''\^^^ * ^*"*'^^15 




I From prayer to book, fi^om book to mass, 
^■^nd all in high Baronial pride, — 

A life both dull and dignified ; — 

Yet as Lord Marmion nothing press'd 

Upon her intervals of rest, 20 

Dejected Clara well could bear 

The formal state, the lengthen 'd prayer, 

250 



CANTO SIXTH 251 

/Though dearest to her wonnded heart | / ^ 
(The hours that she might spend apart. / / ^ 

II 

I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep 

Hung o'er the margin of the deep. 

Many a rude tower and rampart there 

Eepell'd the insult of the air, 
5 Which, when the tempest vex'd the sky, 

Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. 

Above the rest, a turret square 

Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear. 

Of sculpture rude, a stony shield; 
10 The Bloody Heart was in the Field, 

And in th^ chief three mullets stood, 

The cognizalice'df Douglas blood. 

The turret held a narrow stair. 

Which, mounted, J gave you access where 
15 A parapet's embattled row 

Did seaward round ?the castle go. 

Sometimes in dizzy steps descending. 

Sometimes in narrow circuit bending. 

Sometimes in platform broad extending, 
20 Its varying circle did combine ^ *J^ 

Bulwark, and bartizan, and li.Mi.. ""'^ 

And Bastion, tower, and vantage-coign: 

Above the booffiS^ocean leant 

The far -projecting battlement ; ^ / "-Ja 
25 The billows burst, in ceaseless flow, ' 

Upon the precipice below. 



252 MARMION 

Where'er Tantallon faced the land, 

Gate-works, and walls, were strongly mann'd; 

No need upon the sea-girt side ; 

The steepy rock, and frantic tide, so 

Approach of human step denied ; 

And thus these lines, and ramparts rude, f^A 

Were left in deepest solitude. | | \ St^"^] 



, for the 



aeepest soiituae. i i 

a^*^ III ""TU/)^ ! 



And, for they were so lonely, Clare 
Would to these battlements repair. 
And muse upon her sorrows there. 

And list the sea-birds cry; 
Or slow, like noontide ghost, would glide 5 

Along the dark-grey bulwarks' side. 
And ever on the heaving tide 

Look down with weary eye. 
Oft did the cliff, and swelling main, 
Eecall the thoughts of Whitby's fane, — lo 

A home she ne'er might see again; 

For she had laid adown, 
So Douglas bade, the hood and veil, 
And frontlet of the cloister pale, 

And Benedictine gown : is 

It were unseemly sight, he said, 
A novice out of convent shade. — 
Now her bright locks, with sunny glow, 
Again adorn'd her brow of snow ; 
Her mantle rich, whose borders, round, ao 

A deep and fretted broidery bound. 



SIXTH CANTO 253 

In golden foldings sought the ground ; 
Of holy ornament, alone 
Remain'd a cross with ruby stone; 
25 And often did she look 

On that which in her hand she bore, 
With velvet bound, and broider'd o'er, 

Her breviary book. 
In such a place, so lone, so grim, 
30 At dawning pale, or twilight dim, 

It fearful would have been 
To meet a form so richly dress 'd. 
With book in hand, and cross on breast, 

And such a woeful mien. 
35 Fitz-Eustace, loitering with his bow, 
To practise on the gull and crow. 
Saw her, at distance, gliding slow. 

And did by Mary swear. 
Some love-lorn Fay she might have been, 
40 Or, in Romance, some spell-bound Queen ; 
For ne'er, in work-day world, was seen 

A form so witching fair. 

IV 

Once walking thus, at evening tide. 

It chanced a gliding sail she spied. 

And, sighing, thought— "The Abbess, there. 

Perchance, does to her home repair ; 

(Her pea^cejtaLjlule^ where Duty, fre% 
Walks hand in hand with Charity; 
Where oft Devotion's tranced glow 



254 MARMION 



1/ <j 



Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow, 

That the enraptured sisters see 

High vision, and deep mystery; lo 

The very form of Hilda fair, 

Hovering upon the sunny air, 

And smiling on her votaries' prayer. 

! wherefore, to my duller eye. 

Did still the Saint her form deny ! is 

Was it, that, sear'd by sinful scorn. 

My heart could neither melt nor burn? 

Or lie my warm affections low, 

With him, that taught them first to glow? 

Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew, ao 

To pay thy kindness grateful due. 

And well could brook the mild command 

That ruled thy simple maiden band. 

How different now! condemn'd to bide 

My doom from this dark tyrant's pride. — 25 

But Marmion has to learn, ere long, 

That constant mind, and hate of wrong. 

Descended to a feeble girl. 

From Eed De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl: 

Of such a stem, a sapling weak, so 

He ne'er shall bend, although he break. 

V 

"But see! what makes this armour here?" — 

For in her path there lay 
Targe, corslet, helm; — she view'd them near. — 
*'The breast-plate pierced! — Ay, much I fear, 



CANTO SIXTH 255 

5 Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear, 

That hath made fatal entrance here, 
As these dark blood-gouts say. — 

Thus Wilton! — Oh! not corslet's ward, 

Not truth, as diamond pure and hard, 
10 Could be thy manly bosom's guard, 
On yon disastrous day!" — 

She raised her eyes in mournful mood, — 

WiLTOK himself before her stood ! 

It might have seem'd his passing ghost, 
15 For every youthful grace was lost ; 

And joy unwonted, and surprise, 

Gave their strange wildness to his eyes. — 

Expect not, noble dames and lords. 

That I can tell such scene in words : 
20 What skilful limner e'er would choose 

To paint the rainbow's varying hues, 

Unless to mortal it were given 

To dip his brush in dyes of heaven? 

Far less can my weak line declare 
25 Each changing passion's shade; 

Brightening to rapture from despair, 

Sorrow, surprise, and pity there, 

And joy, with her angelic air, 

And hope, that paints the future fair, 
30 Their varying hues display 'd: 

Each o'er its rival's ground extending. 

Alternate conquering, shifting, blending. 

Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield. 

And mighty Love retains the field. 



256 MARMION 

Shortly I tell what then he said, 35 

By many a tender word delay'd, 
And modest blush, and bursting sigh, 
And question kind, and fond reply : — 

VI 

De Wilton'' s History 
*' Forget we that disastrous day, 
When senseless in the lists I lay. 

Thence dragg'd, — but how I cannot know, j^ 

For sense and recollection fled, — r 4^ 

I found me on a pallet low, >x^ ^vit^t. "^" ' 5 
Within my ancient beadsman's shed. 

Austin, — Eemember'st thou, my Clare, 
How thou didst blush, when the old man. 
When first our infant love began. 

Said we would make a matchless pair? — 10 

Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled 
From the degraded traitor's bed, — 
He only held my burning head. 
And tended me for many a day. 
While wounds and fever held their sway. 15 

But far more needful was his care, 
When sense return'd to wake despair; 

For I did tear the closing wound. 

And dash me fi-antic on the ground, 
If e'er I heard the name of Clare. 20 

At length, to calmer reason brought. 
Much by his kind attendance wrought, 

With him I left my native strand. 



CANTO SIXTH 257 

And, in a Palmer's weeds array 'd, 
25 My hated name and form to shade, 
I journey 'd many a land; 
No more a lord of rank and birth, 
But mingled with the dregs of earth. 
Oft Austin for my reason fear'd, 
30 When I would sit, and deeply brood 
On dark revenge, and deeds of blood. 

Or wild mad schemes uprear'd. 
My friend at length fell sick, and said, 
God would remove him soon: 
35 And, while upon his dying bed. 
He begg'd of me a boon — 
If e'er my deadliest enemy 
Beneath my brand should conquer 'd lie. 
Even then my mercy should awake, 
40 And spare his life for Austin's sake. 

VII 




Hi 



still restless as a second Cain, 
To Scotland next my route was ta'en. 

Full well the paths I knew. 
Fame of my fate made various sound, 
5 That death in pilgrimage I found, 
That I had perish'd of my wound, — 

None cared which tale was true : 
And living eye could never guess 
De Wilton in his Palmer's dress; 
10 For now that sable slough is shed. 

And trimm'd my shaggy beard and head, 



u 



,^ 



258 MAEMION 

I scarcely know me in the glass. 

A chance most wondrous did provide 

That I should be that Baron's guide — 

I will not name his name ! — 15 

Vengeance to God alone belongs ; 
But, when I think on all my wrongs, 

My blood is liquid flame ! 
And ne'er the time shall I forget, 
When, in a Scottish hostel set, ^ 20 

Dark looks we did exchange : 
What were his thoughts I cannot tell ; 
But in my bosom muster 'd Hell 

Its plans of dark revenge, j 

"A word of vulgar augury, ""^"''M^ 
That broke from me, I scarce knew why, 

Brought on a village tale ; 
Which wrought upon his moody sprite. 
And sent him armed forth by night. 5 

I borrow 'd steed and mail 
And weapons, from his sleeping band; 

And, passing from a postern door, 
We met, and 'counter 'd hand to hand, — 

He fell on Gifford moor. 10 

For the death -stroke my brand I drew 
(0 then my helmed head he knew. 

The Palmer's cowl was gone,) 
Then had three inches of my blade 
The heavy debt of vengeance paid, — is 



CANTO SIXTH 359 

My hand the thought of Austin staid ; 
I leffc him there alone. — 

good old man ! even from the grave, 

Thy spirit could thy master save : 
20 If I had slain my foeman, ne'er 

Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear. 

Given to my hand this packet dear. 

Of power to clear my injured fame. 

And vindicate De Wilton's name. — 
25 Perchance you heard the Abbess tell 

Of the strange pageantry of Hell 
That broke our secret speech — 

It rose from the infernal shade. 

Or featly was some juggle play'd, 
30 A tale of peace to teach. 

Appeal to Heaven I judged was best, 

When my name came among the rest. 

IX 

"Now here, within Tantallon Hold, 

To Douglas late my tale I told. 

To whom my house was known of old. 

Won by my proofs, his falchion bright 
6 This eve anew shall dub me knight. 

These were the arms that once did turn 

The tide of fight on Otterburne, 

And Harry Hotspur forced to yield, 

When the Dead Douglas won the field. 
10 These Angus gave — his armourer's care, 

Ere morn, shall every breach repair ; 



260 MARMION 

For nought, he said, was in his halls, 

But ancient armour on the walls, 

And aged chargers in the stalls. 

And women, priests, and grey -hair 'd men; 15 

The rest were all in Twisel glen. 

And now I watch my armour here. 

By law of arms, till midnight's near; 

Then, once again a belted knight. 

Seek Surrey's ,camp with dawn of light. 120 

"There soon again we meet, my Clare! 

This Baron means to guide thee there: 

Douglas reveres his King's command, 

Else would he take thee from his band. 

And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too, 5 

Will give De Wilton justice due. 

Now meeter far for martial broil, 

Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil. 

Once more" — "0 Wilton! must we then 

Eisk new-found happiness again, 10 

Trust fate of arms once more? 
And is there not an humble glen, 

Where we, content and poor. 
Might build a cottage in the shade, 
A shepherd thou, and I to aid 35 

Thy task on dale and moor? — 
That reddening brow ! — ^too well I know. 
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow. 

While falsehood stains thy name : 



CANTO SIXTH 261 

20 Go then to fight ! Clare bids thee go ! 
Clare can a warrior's feelings know, 

And weep a warrior's shame; 
Can Red Earl Gilbert 's spirit feel, 
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel 
25 And belt thee with thy brand of steel, 
And send thee forth to fame!" 

XI 

That night, upon the rocks and bay, 
The midnight moon-beam slumbering lay, 
And pour'd its silver light, and pure. 
Through loop-hole and through embrazure, 
6 Upon Tantallon tower and hall ; 
But chief where arched windows wide 
Illuminate the chapel's pride. 

The sober glances fall. 
Much was their need ; though seam'd with scars, 
10 Two veterans of the Douglas' wars. 

Though two grey priests were there, 
And each a blazing torch held high. 
You could not by their blaze descry 

The chapel's carving fair. 
15 Amid that dim and smoky light. 

Chequering the silver moon -shine bright, 

A bishop by the altar stood, 

A noble lord of Douglas blood. 
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white. 
20 Yet show'd his meek and thoughtful eye 
But little pride of prelacy ; 



262 MARMION 

More pleased that, in a barbarous age, 

He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page, 

Than that beneath his rule he held 

The bishopric of fair Dunkeld. 25 

Beside him ancient Angus stood, 

Doff'd his furr'd gown, and sable hood: 

O'er his huge form and visage pale. 

He wore a cap and shirt of mail ; 

And lean'd his large and wrinkled hand so 

Upon the huge and sweeping brand 

Which wont of yore, in battle fray, 

His foeman's limbs to shred away, 

As wood-knife lops the sapling spray. 

He seem'd as, from the tombs around 
Eising at judgment-day, -"^^^^^ 

Some giant Douglas may be found 
In all his old array ; 
So pale his face, so huge his limb, 
So old his arms, his look so grim. 



XII 



Then at the altar Wilton kneels. 
And Clare the spurs bound on his heels; 
And think what next he must have felt 
At buckling of the falchion belt ! 

And judge how Clara changed her hue, 
While fastening to her lover's side 
A friend, which, though in danger tried, 

He once had found untrue ! 
Then Douglas struck him with his blade : 




1 



CANTO SIXTH 263 

10 *' Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid, 

I dub thee knight. 
Arise, Sir Ealph, De Wilton's heir! 
For King, for Church, for Lady fair. 

See that thou fight." — 
15 And Bishop Ga^^n, as he rose, 

Said — " Wilton !f grieve not for thy woes, y 

Disgrace, and trouble : ^J /j 

For He who honour best bestows, >*'***' 

May give thee double. "4— 
20 De Wilton sobb'd, for sob'Tie must — 
"Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust 

That Douglas is my brother!" — 
*^Nay, nay," old Angus said, "not so; 
To Surrey's camp thou now must go, 
25 Thy wrongs no longer smother. 
I have two sons in yonder field. 
And, if thou meet'st them under shield, 
Upon them bravely — do thy worst ; 
And foul fall him that blenches first!" 

XIII 

Not far advanced was morning day, 
When Marmion did his troop array 

To Surrey's camp to ride; 
He had safe-conduct for his band 
5 Beneath the royal seal and hand, 

And Douglas gav^e a guide : 
The ancient Earl, with stately grace. 



264 MARMION 

Would Clara on lier palfrey place, 

And whisper 'd in an under tone, 

*'Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." — lo 

The train from out the castle drew, 

But Marmion stopped to bid adieu:—- .. 

^'Though something I might plain," he said, 
"Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
Sent hither by your King's behest, is 

While in Tantallon's towers I staid; 
Part we in friendship from your land, 
And, noble Earl, receive my hand." — 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak. 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke: ao 

*'My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still 
Be open, at my Sovereign's will. 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 
My castles are my King's alone, 
From turret to foundation-stone — 
The hand of Douglas is his own ; 
And never shall in friendly grasp 
The hand of such as Marmion clasp. "— j^ . ^^J^ 

XIV 

Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire. 
And shook his very frame for ire. 

And — '*This to me!" he said, — 
"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, 
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 5 




CANTO SIXTH 265 

To cleave the Douglas' head! 

And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, 

He, who does England's message here, 

Although the meanest in her state, 
10 May well, proud Angus, be thy mate: 

And, Douglas, more I tell thee here. 
Even in thy pitch of pride. 

Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 

(Nay, never look upon your lord, 
15 And lay your hands upon your sword,) 
I tell thee, thou'rt defied! 

And if thou said'st, I am not peer 

To any lord in Scotland here. 

Lowland or Highland, far or near, 
20 Lord Angus, thou hast lied!" — 

On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 

O'ercame the ashen hue of age: 

Fierce he broke forth, — "And darest thou then 

To beard the lion in his den, 
25 The Douglas in his hall? 

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go? — 

No, by Saint Bride of Both well, no! 

Up drawbridge, grooms — what. Warder, ho! 
Let the portcullis fall." — 
30 Lord Marmion turn'd, — well was his need, 

And dash'd the rowels in his steed. 

Like arrow through the archway sprung. 

The ponderous grate behind him rung : 

To pass there was such scanty room, 
35 The bars descending, razed his plume. 



266 MARMION 



XV 



The steed along the drawbridge flies, 

Just as it trembled on the rise ; 

Nor lighter does the swallow skim 

Along the smooth lake's level brim: 

And when Lord Mar mion reach 'd his band, 6 

He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 

And shout of loud defiance pours, 

And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

*'Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, ''and chase!" 

But soon he rein'd his fury's pace: lo 

*'A royal messenger he came, 

Though most unworthy of the name.- 

A letter forged ! Saint Jude to speed ! 

Did ever knight so foul a deed ! 

At first in heart it liked me ill, i5 

When the King praised his clerkly skill. 

Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, 

Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line:, / 

So swore I, and I swear it still, ^-^^ My\ 

Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.^ > 20 

Saint Mary mend my fiery mood! 

Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, 

I thought to slay him where he stood. 

'Tis pity of him too," he cried: 

''Bold can he speak, and fairly ride, 25 

I warrant him a warrior tried." 

With this his mandate he recalls, 

And slowly seeks his castle halls. 



CANTO SIXTH 267 



XVI 



The day in Marmion's journey wore; 

Yet, ere his passion's gust was o'er, 

They cross 'd the heights of Stanrigmoor. 

His troop more closely there he scann'd, 
5 And missed the Palmer from the band. — 

* 'Palmer or not," young Blount did say, 

*'He parted at the peep of day; 

Good sooth, it was in strange array." — 

*'In what array?" said Marmion quick. 
10 "My lord, I ill can spell the trick; 

But all night long, with clink and bang, 

Close to my couch did hammers clang; 

At dawn the falling drawbridge rang, 

And from a loop-hole while I peep, 
15 Old Bell-the-Oat came from the Keep, 

Wrapped in a gown of sables fair. 

As fearful of the morning air ; 

Beneath, when that was blown aside, 

A rusty shirt of mail I spied, 
20 By Archibald won in bloody work, 

Against the Saracen and Turk : 

Last night it hung not in the hall ; 

I thought some marvel would befall. 

And next I saw them saddled lead 
25 Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed; 

A matchless horse, though something old. 

Prompt in his paces, cool and bold. 

I heard the Sheriff Sholto say. 



268 MARMION 

The Earl did much the Master pray 

To use him on the battle-day ; 

But he preferr'd — " ''Nay, Hem-y, cease! 

Thou sworn horse-courser, hold thy peace. — 

Eustace, thou bear'st a brain — I pray 

What did Blount see at break of day?" — 

XVII 

*'In brief, my lord, we both descried 
(For then I stood by Henry's side) 
The Palmer mount and outwards ride, 

Upon the Earl's own favourite steed: 
All sheathed he was in armour bright. 
And much resembled that same knight 
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight : 

Lord Angus wished him speed." — 
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke, 
A sudden light on Marmion broke; — 
''Ah! dastard fool, to reason lost!" 
He mutter 'd; " 'Twas nor fay nor ghost 
I met upon the moonlight wold, 
But living man of earthly mould. — 

dotage blind and gross! 
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust 
Had laid De Wilton in the dust^^ 

My path no more to crossi — 
How stand we now? — he told his tale 
To Douglas ; and with some avail ; 

'Twas therefore gloom'd his rugged brow. — 
Will Surrey dare to entertain. 



CANTO SIXTH 269 

'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain? 
Small risk of that, I trow. 
25 Yet Clare's sharp questions mnst I shun; 
Must separate Constance from the Nun — 

(0, what a tangled web we weave, \ 
When first we practise to deceive !i "'^ ** 
i Palmer too ! — no wonder why 
30 I felt rebuked beneath his eye : 

I might have known there was but one, 
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion." 

XVIII 

Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed 

His troop, and reach 'd, at eve, the Tweed, 

Where Lennel's convent closed their march; 

(There now is left but one frail arch ; 
5 Yet mourn thou not its cells ; 

Our time a fair exchange has made ; 

Hard by, in hospitable shade, 
A reverend pilgrim dwells. 

Well worth the whole Bernardino brood, 
10 That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.) 

Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there 

Give Marmion entertainment fair, 

And lodging for his train and Clare. 

Next morn the Baron climb'd the tower, 
15 To view afar the Scottish power, 
Encamp'd on Flodden edge: 

The white pavilions made a show, 

Like remnants of the winter snow. 



270 MARMION 

Along the dusky ridge. 
Long Marmion look'd: — at length his eye 20 

Unusual movement might descry 

Amid the shifting lines : 
The Scottish host drawn out appears, 
For, flashing on the hedge of spears 

The eastern sunbeam shines. 25 

Their front now deepening, now extending; 
Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, 
]^ow drawing back, and now descending, 
The skilful Marmion well could know, 
They watch'd the motions of some foe, 3^ 

Who traversed on the plain below. 




'^^ 



XIX ' tJB 

Even so it was. From Flodden ridge 

The Scots beheld the English host 

Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post, 

And heedful watch'd them as they cross 'd 
The Till by Twisel Bridge. 5 

High sight it is and haughty, while 

They dive into the deep defile ; 

Beneath the cavern'd cliff they fall, 

Beneath the castle's airy wall. 
By rock, by oak, by hawthorn-tree, 10 

Troop after troop are disappearing; 

Troop after troop their banners rearing. 
Upon the eastern bank you see. 
Still pouring down the rocky den, 

Where flows the sullen Till, 15 



CANTO SIXTH 271 

And rising from the dim-wood glen, 

Standards on standards, men on men, 
In slow succession still, 

And, sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, 
20 And pressing on, in ceaseless march, 
To gain the opposing hill. 

That morn, to many a trumpet clang, 

Twisel! thy rock's deep echo rang; 

And many a chief of birth and rank, 
25 Saint Helen! at thy fountain di'ank. 

Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see 

In spring-time bloom so lavishly. 

Had then from many an axe its doom, 

To give the marching columns room. / ; 

XX ^^ 

And why stands Scotland idly now, 
Dark Flodden ! on thy airy brow. 
Since England gains the pass the while, 
And struggles through the deep defile? 
5 What checks the fiery soul of James? 
Why sits that champion of the dames 

Inactive on his steed, 
And sees, between him and his land, 
Between him and Tweed's southern strand, 
10 His host Lord Surrey lead? 

What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand? — 
0, Douglas, for thy leading wand! 

Fierce Eandolph, for thy speed! 
for one hour of Wallace wight, 




272 MARMION 

Or well-skill'd Bruce, to rule the fight, 15 

And cry — *' Saint Andrew and our right!" 

Another sight had seen that morn. 

From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, 

And Flodden had been Bannockbourne ! — 

The precious hour has pass'd in vain, 20 

And England's host has gain'd the plain. 

Wheeling their march, and circling still, 

Around the base of Flodden hill. 

XXI 

Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye, 
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high, 
"Hark! hark! my lord, an English drum! 
And see ascending squadrons come 

Between Tweed's river and the hill, 5 

Foot, horse, and cannon : — ^hap what hap, 
My basnet to a prentice cap. 

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till! — 
Yet more ! yet more ! — how far array'd 
They file from out the hawthorn shade, 10 

And sweep so gallant by ! 
With all their banners bravely spread, 

And all their armour fiashing high. 
Saint George might waken from the dead, 

To see fair England's standards fly." — is 

*' Stint in thy prate, " quoth Blount, ''thou'dst best. 

And listen to our lord's behest." — 
With kindling brow Lord Marmion said, 
^'This instant be our band array'd; 



CANTO SIXTH 273 

20 The river must be quickly cross 'd, 
That we may join Lord Surrey's host. 
If fight King James, — as well I trust 
That fight he will, and fight he must, 
The Lady Clare behind our lines 

25 Shall tarry, while the battle joins." 

XXII 

Himself he swift on horseback threw, 

Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu ; 

Far less would listen to his prayer 

To leave behind the helpless Clare. 
5 Down to the Tweed his band he drew, 

And mutter 'd as the flood they view, 

''The pheasant in the falcon's claw. 

He scarce will yield to please a daw : 

Lord Angus may the Abbot awe, 
10 So Clare shall bide with me." 

Then on that dangerous ford, and deep, 

Where to the Tweed Leafs eddies creep, 
He ventured desperately : 

And not a moment will he bide, 
15 Till squire, or groom, before him ride ; 

Headmost of all he stems the tide. 
And stems it gallantly. 

Eustace held Clare upon her horse, 
Old Hubert led her rein, 
20 Stoutly they braved the current's course. 

And, though far downward driven per force, 
The southern bank they gain ; 



274 MARMION 

Behind them straggling, came to shore, 

As best they might, the train : 
Each o'er his head his yew -bow bore, 25 

A caution not in vain ; 
Deep need that day that every string, 
By wet unhai'm'd, should sharply ring. 
A moment then Lord Marmion staid. 
And breathed his steed, his men array'd, so 

Then forward mov'd his band. 
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won, 
He halted by a Cross of Stone, 
That, on a hillock standing lone. 

Did all the field command. 35 

XXIII 

Hence might they see the full array 

Of either host, for deadly fray; 

Their marshall'd lines stretch'd east and wast, 

And fronted north and south, 
And distant salutation pass'd 5 

From the loud cannon mouth ; 
Not in the close successive rattle 
That breathes the voice of modern battle, 

But slow and far between. — 
The hillock gain'd. Lord Mai^mion staid: lo 

"Here, by this Cross," he gently said, 

''You well may view the scene. 
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare : 
! think of Marmion in thy prayer ! — 
Thou wilt not? — well, — no less my care is 



CANTO SIXTH 275 

Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare. — 
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard. 

With ten pick'd archers of my train; 
With England if the day go hard, 
20 To Berwick speed amain. — 
But if we conquer, cruel maid, 
My spoils shall at your feet be laid, 

When here we meet again. " 
He waited not for answer there, 
25 And would not mark the maid's despair, 

Nor heed the discontented look 
From either squire; but spurr'd amain. 
And, dashing through the battle plain. 

His way to Surrey took. 

XXIV 

*' The good Lord Marmion, by my life! 



Welcome to danger's hour! — 
Short greeting serves in time of strife : — 

Thus have I ranged my power : 
5 Myself will rule this central host, 

Stout Stanley fronts their right. 
My sons command the vaward post, 

With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight; 

Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light, 
10 Shall be in rearward of the fight. 
And succour those that need it most. 

Now, gallant Marmion, well I know, 

Would gladly to the>anguard go ; 
Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there, 



276 MARMION 

With thee their charge will blithely share ; ii 

There fight thine own retainers too, 

Beneath De Burg, thy steward true." — 

^'Thanks, noble Surrey!" Marmion said, 

Nor farther greeting there he paid ; 

But, parting like a thunderbolt, 30 

First in the vanguard made a halt, 

Where such a shout there rose 
Of ''Marmion! Marmion!" that the cry 
Up Flodden Mountain shrilling high, 

Startled the Scottish foes. 26 

XXV 

Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still 

With Lady Clare upon the hill. 

On which, (for far the day was spent,) 

The western sunbeams now were bent. 

The cry they heard, its meaning knew, 5 

Could plain their distant comrades view; 

Sadly to Blount did Eustace say, 

"Unworthy office here to stay! 

No hope of gilded spurs to-day. — 

But see ! look up — on Flodden bent 10 

The Scottish foe has fired his tent. " 

And sudden, as he spoke. 
From the sharp ridges of the hill. 
All downward to the banks of Till, 

Was wreathed in sable smoke. 15 

Volumed and fast, and rolling far, 
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war. 



CANTO SIXTH 277 

As down the hill they broke ; 
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, 
20 Announced their march ; their tread alone. 
At times one warning trumpet blown, 

At times a stifled hum, 
Told England, from his mountain-throne 

King James did rushing come. — 
5 Scarce could they hear, or see their foes. 

Until at weapon-point they close. — 
They close, in clouds of smoke and dust. 
With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust ; 

And such a yell was there, 
30 Of sudden and portentous birth. 
As if men fought upon the earth, 
And fiends in upper air ; 
life and death were in the shout, 
Eecoil and rally, charge and rout, 
35 And triumph and despair. 

Long look'd the anxious squires; their eye 
Could in the darkness nought descry. 

XXVI 

At length the freshening western blast 
Aside the shroud of battle cast ; 
And, first, the ridge of mingled spears 
Above the brightening cloud appears ; 
5 And in the smoke the pennons flew. 
As in the storm the white seamew. 
Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far. 
The broken billows of the war, 



278 MARMION 

And plumed crests of chieftains brave 

Floating like foam upon the wave ; lo 

But nought distinct they see : 
Wide raged the battle on the plain ; 
Spears shook, and falchions flash 'd amain; 
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain; 
Crests rose, and stoop'd, and rose again, is 

Wild and disorderly. 
Amid the scene of tumult, high 
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly: 
And stainless Tunstall's banner white, 
And Edmund Howard's lion bright, 20 

Still bear them bravely in the fight ; 

Although against them come. 
Of gallant Gordons many a one, 
And many a stubborn Badenoch-man, 
And many a rugged Border clan, 26 

With Huntly, and with Home. 

XXVII 

Far on the left, unseen the while, 

Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle ; 

Though there the western mountaineer 

Kush'd with bare bosom on the spear. 

And flung the feeble targe aside, 6 

And with both hands the broadsword plied, 

'Twas vain : — But Fortune, on the right. 

With fickle smile, cheer'd Scotland's fight. 

Then fell that spotless banner white. 

The Howard's lion fell; 10 



CANTO SIXTH 279 

Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew 
With wavering flight, while flercer grew 

Around the battle-yell. 
The Border slogan rent the sky- 
is A Home ! a Gordon ! was the cry : 
Loud were the clanging blows ; 
Advanced, — ^forced back, — now low, now high, 

The pennon sunk and rose ; 
As bends the bark's mast in the gale, 
20 When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, 
It waver 'd 'mid the foes. 
No longer Blount the view could bear : 
"By heaven and all its saints! I swear 
I will not see it lost ! 
25 Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare 
May bid your beads and patter prayer, — 

I gallop to the host." 
And to the fray he rode amain. 
Follow 'd by all the archer train. 
30 The fiery youth, with desperate charge. 
Made, for a space, an opening large — 

The rescued banner rose, — 
But darkly closed the war around. 
Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground, 
85 It sunk among the foes. 

Then Eustace mounted too : — yet staid. 
As loath to leave the helpless maid. 

When, fast as shaft can fly. 
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread, 
40 The loose rein dangling from his head. 



280 MARMION 

Housing and saddle bloody red, 

Lord Marmion's steed rush'd by; 
And Eustace, maddening at the sight, 

A look and sign to Clara cast, 

To mark he would return in haste, 45 

Then plunged into the fight. 

XXYIII 

Ask me not what the maiden feels. 

Left in that dreadful hour alone : 
Perchance her reason stoops, or reels; 

Perchance a courage, not her own. 

Braces her mind to desperate tone. — 5 

The scatter 'd van of England wheels ; — 

She only said, as loud in air 

The tumult roar'd, ^'Is Wilton there?"— 

They fly, or, madden 'd by despair, 

Fight but to die,— ''Is Wilton there?" lo 

With that, straight up the hill there rode 
Two horsemen drench 'd with gore, 
And in their arms, a helpless load, 

A wounded knight they bore. 
His hand still strain'd the broken brand; 15 

His arms were smear 'd with blood and sand. 
Dragg'd from among the horses' feet, 
With dinted shield, and helmet beat. 
The falcon-crest and plumage gone. 
Can that be haughty Marmion! ... » 

Young Blount his armour did unlace. 
And, gazing on his ghastly face, 



♦v^.-fe^^ 



CANTO SIXTH 381 

Said — *'By Saint George, he's gone! 
That spear -wound has our master sped, 
25 And see, the deep cut on his head! 

Good-night to Marmion." — 
*' Unnurtured Blount! thy brawling cease: 
He opes his eyes," said Eustace; ''peace!" 

XXIX 

When, doff'd his casque, he felt free air. 
Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare : — 
*'Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where? 
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! 
5 Eedeem my pennon, — charge again! 
Cry — 'Marmion to the rescue!' — Vain! ^ 

Last of my race, on battle-plain ^ 

That shout shall ne'er be heard again! — y 
Yet my last thought is England's — fly, 
10 To Dacre bear my signet-ring : 

Tell him his squadrons up to bring. f^^ 
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie; .J 

Tunstall lies dead upon the field. 
His life-blood stains the spotless shield : 
15 Edmund is down : — my life is reft ; 
The Admiral alone is left. 
Let Stanley charge with spur of fire, — 
With Chester charge, and Lancashire, 
Full upon Scotland's central host . 
20 Or yictory and England's lost.— r, . 

Must I bid twice? — hence, varlets! fly! 
Leave Marmion here alone — to die." 



V 



282 MAEMION 

They parted, and alone he lay ; 

Clare drew her from the sight away, 
Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, 
And half he murmur 'd, — "Is there none 

Of all my halls have nurst, 
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring 
Of blessed water from the spring, 

To slake my dying thirst !" 

XXX 

0, woman ! in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish w^ing the brow, 
A ministering angel thou ! — 
Scarce were the piteous accents said. 
When, with the Baron's casque, the maid 

To the nigh streamlet ran : 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears; 
The plaintive voice alone she hears, 

Sees but the dying man. 
She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, 

But in abhorrence backward drew; 
For, oozing from the mountain's side, 
Where raged the war, a dark -red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn ! — behold her mark 

A little fountain cell, 



CANTO SIXTH 283 

20 Where water, clear as diamond-spark, 
In a stone basin fell. 
Above, some half -worn letters say, 

2)rlnft, weari2» pilgrim* Drinft^ anD. pra^* 
Jfor* tbc. ftlnD* eonU ot Si^blL ©ra^» 
25 Mbo* built* tbt0, cro66» anD* welL 

She fiU'd the helm, and back she hied, 
And with surprise and joy espied 

A Monk supporting Marmion's head; 
A pious man, whom duty brought 
30 To dubious verge of battle fought. 

To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. 

XXXI 

Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, 

And, as she stoop 'd his brow to lave — 

*'Is it the hand of Clare," he said, 

*'0r injured Constance, bathes my head?" 
5 Then, as remembrance rose, — 

''Speak not to me of shrift or prayer! 
I must redress her woes. 

Short space, few words, are mine to spare; 

Forgive and listen, gentle Clare!" — 
10 ''Alas!" she said, "the while, — 

0, think of your immortal weal! 

In vain for Constance is your zeal ; 
She died at Holy Isle."— 

Lord Marmion started from the ground, 
15 As light as if he felt no wound ; 

Though in the action burst the tide. 



284 MARMION 

In torrents, from his wounded side. 

''Then it was truth," he said — ''I knew 

That the dark presage must be true. — 

I would the Fiend, to whom belongs at 

The vengeance due to all her wrongs, 

Would spare me but a day ! 
For wasting fire, and dying groan, 
And priests slain on the altar -stone 

Might bribe him for delay. 25 

It may not be ! — this dizzy trance — 
Curse on yon base marauder's lance, 
And doubly cursed my failing brgnd ! 
( A sinful heart makes feeble hand. "S 
T^en, fainting, down on earth IG^Tsunk, • so 

Supported by the trembling Monk. 

XXXII 

With fruitless labour, Clara bound, 

And strove to stanch the gushing wound : 

The Monk, with unavailing cares, 

Exhausted all the Church's prayers. 

Ever, he said, that, close and near, 5 

A lady's voice was in his ear. 

And that the priest he could not hear ; 

For that she ever sung, 
* ^In the lost battle^ home down ly the flying^ 
Where mingles war'^s rattle with groans of the 10 
dying!'''* 

So the notes rung ; — 
** Avoid thee. Fiend! — with cruel hand, 



Hi 



CANTO SIXTH 285 

Shake not the dying sinner's sand! — 
0, look, my son, upon yon sign 
15 Of the Eedeemer's grace divine; 

0, think on faith and bliss! — 
By many a death-bed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen. 

But never aught like this." — 
20 The war, that for a space did fail, 
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 

And — Stanley ! was the cry ; — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread. 

And fired his glazing eye : 
25 With dying hand, above his head. 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted "Victory! — 
Charge, Chester, charge! on, Stanley, on!" 
Were the last words of Marmion. 

XXXIII 

By this, though deep the evening fell, 
Still rose the battle's deadly swell. 
For still the Scots, around their King, 
Unbroken, fought in desperate ring. 
5 Where's now their victor vaward wing, 

Where Huntly, and where Home? — 
0, for a blast of that dread horn. 
On Fontarabian echoes borne. 

That to King Charles did come, 
10 When Kowland brave, and Olivier, 



286 MARMION 

And every paladin and peer, 

On Eoncesvalles died! 
Such blast might warn them, not in vain, 
To quit the plunder of the slain, 
And turn the doubtful day again, is 

While yet on Flodden side, 
Afar, the Eoyal Standard flies. 
And round it toils, and bleeds^ and dies. 

Our Caledonian pride! (\J^ 
In vain the wish — for far away, 20 

While spoil and havoc mark their way. 
Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray. — 
''0, Lady," cried the Monk, ''away!" 

And placed her on her steed. 
And led her to the chapel fair, 25 

Of Tillmouth upon Tweed. 
There all the night they spent in prayer, 
And at the dawn of morning, there 
She met her kinsman. Lord Fitz-Clare. 

XXXIV 

But as they left the dark'ning heath, 
More desperate grew the strife of death. 
The English shafts in volleys hail'd. 
In headlong charge their horse assail'd; 
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep 5 

To break the Scottish circle deep. 
That fought around their King. 
But yet, though thick the shafts as snow. 



CANTO SIXTH 287 

Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, 
10 Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, 
Unbroken was the ring ; 
The stubborn spear -men still made good 
Their dark impenetrable wood, 
f^^^dioii stepping where his comi^ade stood, 
15 The instant that he fell. 
i No thought was there of dastard flight ; 
Link'd in the serried phalanx tight, 
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight. 
As fearlessly and well; / 
20 Till utter darkness cTS^i&^'^r wing 
O'er their thin host and wounded King. 
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands 
Led back from strife his shatter 'd bands; 
And from the charge they drew, 
25 As mountain- waves, from wasted lands. 
Sweep back to ocean blue. 
Then did their loss his f oemen know • 
Their King, their Lords, their mightiest low. 
They melted from the field as snow, 
30 When streams are swoln and south winds blow, 
Dissolves in silent dew. 
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, 

While many a broken band. 
Disorder 'd, through her currents dash, 
35 To gain the Scottish land ; 

To town and tower, to down and dale. 
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale. 
And raise the universal wail. 



288 MARMION 

Tradition, legend, tune, and song, 

Sliall many an age that wail prolong : 4 

Still from the sire the son shall hear | 

Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, I 

Of Flodden's fatal field, / 
Where shiver 'd was fair Scotland's speai% 

And broken was her shield ! >^ 

XXXV 

Day dawns upon the mountain 's side : — 
There, Scotland! lay thy bravest pride. 
Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many a one: 
The sad survivors all are gone. — 
View not that corpse mistrustfully. 
Defaced and mangled though it be ; 
Nor to yon Border Castle high. 
Look northward with upbraiding eye; ^ 

Nor cherish hope in vain, C^j'* 

That, journeying far on foreign strand, .\ lo 

The Eoyal Pilgrim to his land t ^ 

May yet return again. \j \ 

He saw the wreck his rashness wrought ; % V \\ 
Keckless of life, he desperate fought, . ^A'^ 

And fell on Flodden plain : \ 16 

And well in death his trusty brand. 
Firm clench 'd within his manly hand, 

Beseem'd the Monarch slain. 
But, ! how changed since yon blithe night! — 
Gladly I turn me from the sight, 2# 

Unto my tale again. 



CANTO SIXTH 289 



XXXVI 



Short is my tale: — ^Fitz-Eustace's care 
A pierced and mangled body bare 
To moated Lichfield's lofty pile; 
And there, beneath the southern aisle, 

5 A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair, 
Did long Lord Marmion's image bear, 
(Now vainly for its sight you look ; 
'Twas leyell'd, when fanatic Brook 
The fair cathedral storm'd and took; 

10 B]at^^ thanks to Heaven and good Saint Chad! 
A guerdon meet the spoiler had!) 
There erst was martial Marmion found, 
His feet upon a couchant hound, 
His hands to heaven upraised ; 

15 And all around, on scutcheon rich, 
And tablet carved, and fretted niche, 

His arms and feats were blazed. 
And yet, though all was carved so fair, 
And priest for Marmion breathed the prayer, 

20 The last Lord Marmion lay not there. 
From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain 
FoUow'd his lord to Flodden plain, — 
One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay 
In Scotland mourns as "wede away:" 

25 Sore wounded, Sybil's Cross he spied, 
And dragg'd him to its foot, and died, 
Close by the noble Marmion's side. 
The spoilers stripp'd and gash'd the slain. 



290 MARMION 

And thus their corpses were mistaken; 

And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb, ao 

The lowly woodsman took the room. 

XXXVII 

Less easy task it were, to show 

Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and low. 

They dug his grave e'en where he lay, 
But every mark is gone ; 

Time's wasting hand has done away 5 

The simple Cross of Sybil Gray, 
And broke her font of stone. 
But yet out from the little hill 
Oozes the slender springlet still. 

Oft halts the stranger there, lo 

For thence may best his curious eye 
The memorable field descry; 

And shepherd boys repair 
To seek the water-flag and rush, 
And rest them by the hazel bush, 15 

And plait their garlands fair ; 
Nor dream they sit upon the grave 
That holds the bones of Marmion brave. — 
When thou shalt find the little hill. 
With thy heart commune, and be still. so 

If ever, in temptation strong. 
Thou left'st the right path for the wrong; 
K every devious step, thus trod. 
Still lead thee farther from the road ; 



1 



CANTO SIXTH 291 

25 Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom 
On noble Marmion's lowly tomb 
But say, ^^flT eftB 'a' a pll'ant' " g niglit, 
With sword in hand, for England's right.' 

XXXVIII 

I do not rhyme to that dull elf, 
Who cannot image to himself. 
That, all through Flodden's dismal night, 
Wilton was foremost in the fight ; 
5 That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain, f * 
'Twas Wilton mounted him again; , 

'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hew'd, ^| 
Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood?>|\^3.r 
Unnamed by HoUinshed or Hall, ^^ "^ ^ 

10 He was the living soul of all ; 

That, after fight, his faith made plain, 
He won his rank and lands again ; 
And charged his old paternal shield 
With bearings won on Flodden field. 

15 Nor sing I to that simple maid. 
To whom it must in terms be said, 
That King and kinsmen did agree 
To bless fair Clara's constancy; k| 

Who cannot, unless I relate, . W 

20 Paint to her mind the bridal's state; .J^ 

That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke,. 
More, Sands, and Denny, pass'd the joke; 
That bluff King Hal the curtain drew. 
And Catherine's hand the stocking threw; 




AMI 



292 MARMION 

And afterwards, for many a day, 25 

That it was held enough to say. 

In blessing to a wedded pair, 

''Love they like Wilton and like Clare!" 

U Envoy 

TO THE KEADER 

Why then a final note prolong. 

Or lengthen out a closing song, 

Unless to bid the gentles speed. 

Who long have listed to my rede? 

To Statesmen grave, if such may deign 5 

To read the Minstrel's idle strain, 

Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit, 

And patriotic heart — as Pitt ! 

A garland for the hero's crest, 

And twined by her he loves the best ; 10 

To every lovely lady bright. 

What can I wish but faithful knight? 

To every faithful lover too. 

What can I wish but lady true? 

And knowledge to the studious sage ; 15 

And pillow to the head of age. 

To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay 

Has cheated of thy liour of play, 

Light task, and merry holiday! 

To all, to each, a fair good night, 20 

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light! 



NOTES 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST 

Dedication. — William Stewart Eose, Esq., a con- 
spicuous literary character, well known to the readers 
of Lockhart's Life of Scott and to lovers of Berni and 
Ariosto. His best known works are Letters from the 
North of Italy addressed to Henry Hallam the his- 
torian ; The Crusade of the St. Louis, King Edward the 
Martyr; and Partenopex de Blois, a romance in four 
Cantos. The last mentioned is named by Scott in Stanza 
XVin of Intro. I. Mr. Rose died 1843, aged 68. 

V, 16. Thy hallowed tomb ! William Pitt the 

younger became prime minister at the age of 
24, overcoming an enormous Whig opposition, 
and guided England wisely in peace and in war 
through nearly half his short life. In 1801, the 
opposition of the stubborn and bigoted George 
III. to the Catholic Emancipation Act, long 
projected by Pitt, caused the premier's resigna- 
tion and was the cause of his fall from power. 
He resumed the office in 1804, but his health 
was shattered by years of nervous strain and he 
died, two years later, at the age of 47, his heart 
broken by the failure of the famous coalition 
against France (1805) for which he had labored 
so hard and from which he had expected so 
much. Fox died the same year. These two 
great statesmen were buried side-by side ^n 
Westminster Abbey. 

VI, 4. Gadite wave. The Sea of "Cadiz or Gades; the 

modern Bay of Trafalgar. 

VII, 4. On Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar. These places 

were the scenes of splendid naval victories won 
by Admiral Nelson in the Baltic and Mediter- 
ranean Seas. Egypt, the Battle of the Nile, 
was fought with the French, August, 1798; 
Hafnia, the battle of the Baltic (oi; Copen- 

293 



294 MARMION 

hagen) with the Danes, April, 1801 ; Trafalgar, 
off Cape Trafalgar, with the combined fleets of 
France and Spain, Oct. 21, 1805. At the Battle 
of Trafalgar, Admiral Nelson received his death 
woimd. **He lived long enough to hear that 
the day was won and died contented.'' 

VII, 18. What is the effect of the introduction of the 
hexameter verse? 

Vin, 3. Had roused. Give the ordinary prose render- 
ing. Note frequent instances of similar form 
of the verb. 
8. The tottering throne. Of George III. 

X, XI. Fox was a leader of the Whig party. Sir 
Walter Scott's sympathies were entirely with 
the Tory party. Study these stanzas in the 
light of Lord Jeffrey's criticism. He says, 
**The first epistolary effusion, containing a 
threnody on Nelson, Pitt and Fox, exhibits a 
remarkable failure. We are unwilling to quar- 
rel with a poet on the score of politics ; but the 
manner in which he has chosen to praise the 
last of these great men, is more likely, we con- 
ceive, to give offence to his admirers, than the 
most direct censure. The only deed for which 
he is praised is for having broken off the nego- 
tiation for peace ; and for this act of firmness, it 
is added heaven rewarded him with a share in 
the honored grave of Pitt. It is then said that his 
errors should be forgotten, and that he died a 
Briton — a pretty plain insinuation that, in the 
Author's opinion, he did not live one; and just 
such an encomium as he himself pronounces 
over the grave of his villain hero, Marmion." 

XV, 10. The Champion of the Lake. Sir Launcelot du 
Lake, a Knight of King Arthur's Round Table, 
who surpassed all others in "prowess and noble 
deeds." The adventures referred to are his 
introduction by means of enchantment into the 
Castle of Morgan le Fay; his encounter with 
the sorceress Hellawes and his prowess in secur- 
ing the sword of Sir Gilbert in the Chapel 
Perilous ; the dangers he underwent to secure 
favor with Queen Guinevere, wife of King 
Arthur ; and his failure to find the holy Grail 
by reason of broken knightly vows. See Sidney 



NOTES CANTO FIRST 295 

Lanier's The Boys' King Arthur, also Tenny- 
son's Idylls of the King. 

XVI, 3, 4. They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream, 
etc. The allusion is to Spenser's treatment of the 
Arthurian legend in the Faerie Queen, and to 
Milton's youthful ambition to write an epic 
upon the same subject. 
5. And Dry den, in immortal strain. **Dry den's 
melancholy account of his projected Epic Poem, 
blasted by the selfish and sordid parsimony of 
his patrons, is contained in an Essay on Satire, 
addressed to the Earl of Dorset, and prefixed to 
the Translation of Juvenal.'" Sir Walter 
Scott. Also, see Leigh Hunt's Essay on the 
Drama of the Restoration. The * 'patron" sup- 
ported the poet, who must obviously write just 
what it pleased his patron to pay for. 
13. Profaned the God-given strength, etc. Students 
familiar with Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, 
will recognize a peculiar appropriateness in the 
rounding of this stanza with a stately hexa- 
meter. 

XVIII, 5. Of Ascapart and Bevis hold. See Glossary. 



CANTO FIRST 

I, 10. Seem'd forms of giant height. How do you 
account for this illusion? 

V-XI. The British Critic says: "The most pictur- 
esque of all poets, Homer, is frequently minute, 
to the utmost degree, in the description of the 
dresses and accoutrements of his personages. 
These particulars, often inconsiderable in 
themselves, have the effect of giving truth and 
identity to the picture, and assist the mind in 
realizing the scenes, in a degree which no gen- 
eral description could suggest ; nor could we so 
completely enter the castle with Lord Marmion, 
were any circumstances of the description 
omitted." 

VII, 3. The gilded spurs to claim. Gilt spurs were a 
mark of knighthood. 
6. And lightly hear the ring away. A favorite 
amusement of chivalry was to carry away upon 



296 MAEMION 

the lance a ring which was suspended from a 
bar, the competitors riding at full speed. 
8. Dance in hall and carve at hoard. Both dan- 
cing and carving were among a squire's duties. 

XII, 4. Room, lordlings, etc. "The heralds, like the 

minstrels, were a race allowed to have great 
claims upon the liberality of the knights, of 
whose feats they kept a record, and proclaimed 
them aloud as in the text, upon suitable occa- 
sion."— Sir Walter Scott. 

XIII, 2. Sir Hugh the Heron. "Were accuracy of any 

consequence in a fictitious narrative, this cas- 
tellan's name ought to have been William, for 
William Heron of Ford was husband to the 
famous Lady Ford, whose siren charms are said 
to have cost our James IV. so dear." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

11-16. How the fierce Thine alls, etc. The rest of this 
grewsome old ballad may be found in the Min- 
strelsy of the Scottish Border. 

XVI, 6. He might not. He was not able; could not. 

XIX, 3-8. For here be some, etc. "The garrisons of 
the English castles of Wark, Norham, and Ber- 
wick, were as may be easily supposed, very 
troublesome neighbours to Scotland." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 
8. And given them light to set their hoods. This 
line contains a phrase by which the Borderers 
jocularly intimated the burning a house. 
"When the Maxwells in 1685, burned the castle 
of Lockwood, they said they did so to give the 
Lady Johnstone 'light to set her hood.' Nor 
was the phrase inapplicable ; for . . . the Earl 
of Northumberland writes in a letter to the 
king and council, that he dressed himself at 
midnight at Warkworth, by the blaze of the 
neighboring villages burned by the Scottish 
marauders."— Sir Walter Scott. 

XXI, 5. The only man that safe can ride, etc. "At 
Berwick, Norham, and other Border fortresses, 
pursuivants usually resided, whose inviolable 
character rendered them the only persons that 
could, with perfect assurance of safety, be sent 
on necessary embassies into Scotland." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 



NOTES CANTO FIRST 297 

7. And though a bishop built this fort. Hugh 
Pudsey, Bishop of Durham, built the huge keep 
or donjon in 1164. 

16. Too well in case. Too stout. 

17. The priest of Shoreswood, etc. *'This church- 
man seems to have been akin to Welsh, the 
vicar of St. Thomas of Exeter, a leader among 
the Cornish insurgents in 1549. *This man,' 
says Hollinshed, 'had many good things in 
him. He was of no great stature, but well set 
and mightilie compact. He was a very good 
wrestler ; shot well, both in the long-bow, and 
also in the cross-bow. . . . He was a very good 
woodman, and a hardie. . . . He was a com- 
panion in any exercise of activitie, and of a 
courteous and gentle behaviour. He descended 
of a good honest parentage, being born at Pene- 
verin, in Cornwall; and yet, in this rebellion, 
an arch-captain, and a principal doer.'" — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

36-39. That if again he venture o'er, etc. An example 
of Sir Walter Scott's proverbial carelessness 
in the use of pronouns. 

The whole stanza furnishes a bold illustration 
of the ill repute into which excesses had sunk 
the priesthood in the sixteenth century. 

XXII, 2. That lord. Marmion. 

20. Boast hissing crabs, etc. **A designation of 
winter in Love's Labour's Lost is, 'When 
roasted crabs hiss in the bowl.' To 'turne a 
crab' is to roast a wild apple in the fire in order 
to throw it hissing into a bowl of nut-brown 
ale, into which had been put a toast with some 
spice and sugar." 

XXV, 11. They know to charm, etc. What poetic b*- 
cense do you note in this line? 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND 

Dedication. — Rev. John Marriott. This esteemed 
friend and literary associate of Sir Walter Scott was 
** governor to the young nobleman alluded to in Stanza 
II, George Henry, Lord Scott, Son to Charles, Earl of 
Dalkeith, afterward Duke of Buccleuch and Queens- 
bury, who died early in 1808. ' ' Several of Mr. Marriott's 



298 MARMION 



poems are found in Scott's Border Minstrelsy, Vol. IV. 
—''The Feast of Spurs;" "A Visit Paid to the Ruins of 
Melrose Abbey;" and "Archie Armstrong's Aith. " 

I, 2. Where flourished once a forest fair. **Ettrick 
Forest, now a range of mountainous sheep- 
walks, was anciently reserved for the pleasures 
of the royal chase. Since it was disparked, the 
wood has been, by degrees, almost totally de- 
stroyed, although, wherever protected from the 
sheep, copses soon arise without any planting." 
—Sir Walter Scott. 
9. The changes of his parent dell. The second 
epistle, like the first, is introduced by the 
thought of "chance and change." 

II, 4. Whei^e erst the outlaw drew his arrow. "The 

tale of the outlaw Murray, who held out Newark 
Castle and Ettrick Forest against the King, 
may be found in the Border Minstrelsy, Vol. 1. 
In the Macfarlane MS., among other causes of 
James the Fifth's charter to the burgh of Sel- 
kirk, is mentioned, that the citizens assisted 
him to suppress this dangerous outlaw." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 
31. Janet. Here a generic term for country-girl. 

33. No youthful Barons left, etc. See Dedication 
above. 

34. Forest- Sheriff. The allusion is to Sir Walter 
Scott himself, who once held this office. 

37. And she is gone, etc. Harriet, Countess of Dal- 
keith, afterwards Duchess of Buccleuch. Bow- 
hill (1. 22.) was the favorite residence of Lord 
and Lady Dalkeith. 

III, 5. Her long descended lord is gone. The late Alex- 

ander Pringle, Esq. , of Wyntbank — whose 
beautiful seat of the Yair stands on the Tweed, 
about two miles below Ashestiel, which was 
then the residence of the poet. "Long 
descended" means of far-traced lineage. What 
is the antecedent of the pronoun her? 
7. Those sportive hoys, etc. The sons of Mr. 

Pringle of Wyntbank. 
14. His ramparts, etc. A mountainous ridge near 
Ashestiel, called Wallace's Trench. 

IV, 14. By lone St. Mary's silent lake. See Dryhope, 



NOTES CANTO SECOND 299 

Glossary. Also see Wordsworth's Yarrow 
Unvisited. 

V, 4. Our Lady's chapel, etc. "The chapel of St. 

Mary of the Lowes was situated on the eastern 
side of the lake, to which it gives its name. It 
was injured by the clan of Scott, in a feud with 
the Cranstouns ; but continued to be a place of 
worship during the seventeenth century. The 
vestiges of the building can now scarcely be 
traced ; but the burial ground is still used as a 
cemetery."— Sir Walter Scott. 

VI, 5. Like that same peaceful hermitage. See Mil- 

ton's II Penseroso. 
14, 15. Then gaze, etc. See Dryhope, Glossary. 

21. The Wizard's grave, etc. *'At one corner of 
the burial gound of the demolished chapel, but 
without its precincts, is a small mound, called 
Binram's Corse, where tradition deposits the 
remains of a necromantic priest, the former 
tenant of the chaplainry." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 
28. And mark the wild swans, etc. **In the winter 
it (St. Mary's Lake) is still frequented by flights 
of wild swans." — Sir Walter Scott. 

*The swan on still St. Mary's lake 
Floats double, swan and shadow." 

— Wordsworth. 

VIII, 7 to end. Like that which frowns, etc. See 

Loch' Skene, Glossary. 

IX, 2. To many a border theme, etc. See Note to Dedi- 

cation above. 

CANTO second 

I, 9. High Whitby's cloistered pile. See Whitby* 
Glossary. The introduction of monks and nuns 
at Whitby in Henry the Eighth's time is an 
anachronism. 

VII, 4-9. That he, in fury uncontrolled, etc. The 

reference is to Una and the lion. See Spenser's 
Faerie Queene, Bk. I, Canto III. 
12. Had practised with their bowl and knife. I. e., 
employed poison and dagger. 
IX, 3-8. For, with the ebb and flow, etc. See Lindis- 
fame, Glossary. 



300 MARMION 

X, 6-9. By pointed aisle, etc. Characteristics of 

Gothic architecture. 
18. Bebuilded in a later style. "Whitby monastery 
was ''ruined by the Danes and rebuilded by 
AVilKam Percy, in the reign of the Conqueror." 

XI. 10. Tlie monks and nuns. The nunnery at St. 

Cuthbert's Island is a glaring fiction," and so 
admitted by the poet. 
XIII, 1. Uien Whitby's nuns exulting told, etc. In 
the lines which follow, the poet gives the story 
of the crime and punishment of three barons, 
as related, probably with exaggeration, in *'A 
True Account,'' printed and circulated at 
Whitby: *'In the fifth year of the reign of 
Henry II, the Lord of Unglebarnby. then called 
William de Bruce ; the Lord of Smeaton, called 
Ralph de Percy: with a gentleman and free- 
holder called Allatson, did, on the 16th of 
October, 1159, appoint to meet and hunt the 
wild boar, in a certain wood belonging to the 
Abbot of Whitby. These hunters roused a 
great boar, which, being sorely pursued and 
dead run, took in at the chapel of Eskdale-side, 
there laid him down, and presently died. The 
monk of Whitby, who was a hermit, shut the 
door of the chapel. The hunters, arriving upon 
the scene and finding their hounds thus bafiled, 
in a very great fury because their hounds were 
put from the game, cruelly slew the hermit 
with their boar-staves. Before dying, the holy 
hermit forgave the barons their evil deed, but 
imposed upon the murderers the penance here 
described." 
14-22. And how, of thousand snakes, etc. "These two 
miracles are much insisted upon by all ancient 
writers, who have occasion to mention either 
Whitby or St. Hilda. The relics of the snakes 
which infested the precincts of the convent, 
and were at the abbess's prayer, not only 
beheaded, but petrified, are still found about 
the rocks, and are termed by Protestant fossil- 
ists, Animonitae. 

"The other miracle is thus mentioned by 
Camden: *It is also ascribed to the power of 
her (St. Hilda's) sanctity, that these wild 



NOTES CANTO SECOND 301 

geese, which in the winter fly in great flocks to 
the lakes and rivers unfrozen in the southern 
parts, to the great amazement of every one, 
fall down suddenly upon the ground, when 
they are in their flight over certain neighboring 
fields hereabouts. ' Mr. Charlton, in his History 
of Whitby, points out the true origin of the 
fable, from the number of sea-gulls, that, when 
flying from a storm, often light near Whitby ; 
and from the woodcocks, and the birds of 
passage, who do the same upon their arrival on 
shore, after a long flight. '"—Sir Walter Scott. 

XIV, 3. His body's resting place, etc. The ''Coffin 

journeys" of St. Cuthbert, as related by the 
poet in this stanza, are described in detail by 
the saint's biographer, James Eaine, M. A., 
whose work bears the imprint, Durham, 1828, 
and contains "much of antiquarian history, 
ceremonies, and superstitions." See St. Cuth- 
bert, Durham, Glossary. 
30. Save of his holiest servants three. "It is said 
that Northumbrian Catholics still keep secret 
the precise spot of the Saint's sepulchre, which 
is only intrusted to three persons at a time. 
When one dies, the survivors associate to them, 
in his room, a person judged fit to be the deposi- 
tary of so valuable a secret." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 

XV, 2. Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir. In 

the reign of Stephen, 1136, David I. of Scotland, 
with his son Henry, espousing the cause of 
Matilda as claimant for her cousin's throne, 
invaded Northumberland. "The English host 
marched against them under the holy banner of 
St. Cuthbert; to the efficacy of which was 
imputed the great victory which they obtained 
in the bloody battle of Northallerton." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 
7. Before his standard fled. The battle of North- 
allerton was called the Battle of the Standard. 
"The sacred banners of St. Cuthbert of Dur- 
ham, St. Peter of York, St. John of Beverley, 
and St. Wilfrid of Ripon hung from a pole 
fixed in a four-wheeled car which stood in the 
center of the host." — J, R. Green, 



302 MARMION 

9. Edged Alfreds falchion on the Dane, *^Cuth- 
bert, we have seen, had no great reason to spare 
the Danes, when opportunity offered. Accord- 
ingly, I find, in Simeon of Durham, that a 
Saint appeared in a vision to Alfred, when 
lurking in the marshes of Glastonbury, and 
promised him assistance and victory over his 
heathen enemies; a consolation, which as was 
reasonable, Alfred after the victory of Ashen- 
down, rewarded, by a royal offering at the 
shrine of the saint."— Sir Walter Scott. 
10. And turnd the Conqueror back again. **As 
to William the Conqueror, the terror spread 
before his army, when he marched to punish 
the revolt of the Northumbrians, in 1096, had 
forced the monks to fly once more to Holy 
Island with the body of the Saint. It was, 
however, replaced before William left the 
North ; and, to balance accounts, the Conqueror 
having intimated an indiscreet curiosity to view 
the Saint's body, he was, while in the act of 
commanding the shrine to be opened, seized 
with heat and sickness, accompanied with such 
a panic terror that notwithstanding there was 
a sumptuous dinner prepared for him, he fled 
without eating a morsel, (which the monkish 
historian seems to have thought no small part 
of the miracle and the penance), and never 
drew his bridle till he got to the River Tees. ' ' — 
Sir Walter Scott. 

XVI, 3, 4. Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame 
The sea-born beads that bear his name. 
* 'Cuthbert . . . has acquired the reputation of 
forging those Ejitrochi (fossil crinoid-stems) 
which are found among the rocks of Holy 
Island, and pass there by the name of St. Cuth- 
bert 's beads. While at this task, he is supposed 
to sit during the night upon a certain rock, and 
use another as his anvil. — Sir Walter Scott. 

XVn, 13. Vault of Penitence. ' 'In the earlier and more 
rigid times of monastic discipline they (peni- 
tential vaults) were sometimes used as a ceme- 
tery for the lay benefactors of the convent, 
whose unsanctified corpses were then seldom 
permitted to pollute the choir. They also 



NOTES CANTO SECOND 303 

served as places of meeting for the chapter, 
when measures of uncommon severity were to 
be adopted. But their most frequent use, as 
implied by the name, was as places for perform- 
ing penances, or undergoing punishment." — 
Sir Walter Scott. 
XIX, 16. Tynemouth's haughty Prioress. *That there 
was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain. 
. . . But, as in the case of Whitby, and of 
Holy Island, the introduction of nuns at Tyne- 
mouth, in the reign of Henry VIII. is an 
anachronism. The nunnery at Holy Island is 
altogether fictitious. Indeed, St. Cuthbert was 
unlikely to permit such an establishment; for 
... he certainly hated the whole female sex ; 
and, . . . after death, inflicted severe penances 
on such as presumed to approach within a cer- 
tain distance of his shrine." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 

XXV, 4. Alive ivithin the tomb. **It is well known 

that the religious who broke their vows of 
chastity, were subjected to the same penalty as 
the Roman vestals in a similar case. A small 
niche, sufficient to enclose their bodies, was 
made in the massive wall of the convent; a 
slender pittance of food and water was deposited 
in it, and the awful words, Vade in Pace (go in 
peace) were the signal for immuring the crimi- 
nal. It is not likely that in latter times, this 
punishment was often resorted to ; but among 
the ruins of the Abbey of Coldingham, were 
some years ago discovered the remains of a 
female skeleton, which from the shape of the 
niche and the position of the figure, seemed to 
be that of an immured nun." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 

XXVI, 10. And arm'd herself to hear. ''Mr. S. has 

judiciously combined the horrors of the punish- 
ment with a very beautiful picture of the 
offender so as to heighten the interest which 
the situation itself must necessarily excite ; and 
the struggle of Constance to speak, before the 
fatal sentence, is finely painted." — Monthly 
Review. 
XXVIII, 1. The king approved his favourite's aim. 



304 MAEMION 

King Henry VIII. of England; his favorite, 
Marmion. 

14-16. Say ye, icho preach, etc. *'In the administra- 
tion of justice (Norman period) Trial by 
Battle was introduced in addition to the (Trial 
by) Ordeal of the Saxons. This was a duel in 
which each of the contestants appealed to 
Heaven to give him the victory, it being 
believed that the right would vanquish. Noble- 
men fought on horseback in full armor, with 
sword, lance and battle-axe; common people 
fought on foot with clubs. In both cases the 
combat was in the presence of judges and might 
last from sunrise until the stars appeared. 
Priests and women had the privilege of being 
represented by champions, who fought for 
them. Trial by Battle was claimed and 
allowed by the court (though the combat did 
not come off) as late as 1817, reign of George 
III. This custom was finally abolished in 
1819." — Montgomery's Leading Facts of Eng- 
lish History. 

See Shakspere's i^ic/iard II, I, 1-3; also Scott's 
Ivanhoe, Chap. XLIII. 

XXXI, 7. Behind, a darker hour ascends. Scott makes 
effective use in Constance's prophecy, of the 
separation of the English church from Rome 
and the destruction of monasteries by the des- 
potic King Henry VIII. 

XXXIII, 12, 13. And hade the passing knell to toll, etc. 
See III. XIII. 11-14. 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD 

Dedication. — " William Erskine, Esq., advocate, 
Sheriff-deputy of the Orkneys, became a judge of the 
Court of Sessions by the title of Lord Kinnedder, and 
died in Edinburgh in August, 1822. He had been from 
early youth the most intimate of the poet's friends, and 
his chief confidant and adviser in all literary matters." 
Ill, 4. For Brunswick^ s venerable hearse. "The Duke 
of Brunswick, a German general, born October 
9, 1735, was a nephew of Frederick the Great, 
and the eldest son of Duke Karl. He fought for 
his uncle in the Seven Years' War, and suc- 
ceeded to the dukedom in 1780. He took com- 



NOTES INTRODUCTION CANTO THIED 305 

mand of the Prussian army in 1806, and was 
defeated at Jena in October of that year. In 
this battle he was mortally wounded. Died, 
Nov. 10, 1806. "—Johnson's C^/cZppoBdm. 

17. And crush that dragon, etc. Napoleon I. 

22. And snatcKd the spear, hut left the shield. 
Fought with *' valor and skill" (1. 23) but did 
not protect himself from danger and death. 

IV, 1. The Red Cross hero. The reference is to Sir Sid- 

ney Smith who was invested with the insignia 
of that order by the Duke of Wellington. 

8. The Invincible. Napoleon I. 

11. When stubborn Euss. The island of Malta had 
been taken from the Knights of St. John by 
Napoleon and afterwards blockaded by English 
ships. The Czar ' 'on the ground of an alleged 
election as Grand Master of the Order," 
claimed the island and proceeded to enforce his 
claim by forming a coalition of the fleets of 
Russia, Sweden and Denmark, with France and 
Spain. The British victory at Copenhagen 
shattered the combination at a blow. 

12. The warp'd wave. The curling or rolling wave. 
16. The conqueror's wreath, etc. Sir Ralph Aber- 

cromby was slain in a stubborn battle with the 
French in Aboukir Bay, Egypt, 1801. 

V, 7. The bold Enchantress. Joanna Baillie, a Scot- 

tish poet and intimate friend of Sir Walter 
Scott. 

9. From the pale willow snatched the treasure. 
The poet's harp. 

12. With Montforfs hate and Basil's love. The 
characters referred to are found in Joanna 
Baillie's dramas Count Basil and De Montfort. 

14. Deem'd their oivn Shakspeare lived again. 
''Avon's swans must have been Avon's geese, 
I think, if they had deemed any thing of the 
kind. Joanna Baillie's dramas are 'nice' and 
rather dull ; now and then she can write a song 
with the ease and sweetness that suggest Shaks- 
perean echoes. But Scott's judgment was 
obviously blinded by his just and warm regard 
for Joanna Baillie herself." — R. H. Hutton. 
The poet's words in VI. 1 may be applied to 
himself. 



306 MARMION 

VI, 7. Warps. Influences. 

18. While taste and reason plead in vain. The 
great gulf fixed between the poets of the criti- 
cal school and those of the romantic, is seldom 
more distinctly shown than in these pregnant 
lines (VI) from the pen of the great roman- 
cist. Cf. Pope's Essay on Man, Epistle II, 11. 
138-158. 
VII-IX. These three stanzas contain a vivid description 
of Scott's early life. 

VII, 27. That shattered tower. Smailholm Tower in 

Berwickshire is situated about two miles from 
Dryburgh Abbey. 
32. That strength. Castle; stronghold. 

VIII, 4. Grey-hair'd sire. Robert Scott of Sandy- 

knowe, the grandfather of the poet. 
9. Whose doom, etc. Decision; judgment. 
9, 10. "Upon revising the poem, it seems proper to 
mention that the lines 

* Whose doom discording neighbors sought 
Content with equity unbought:' 

have been unconsciously borrowed from a pas- 
sage in Dryden's beautiful epistle to John 
Dry den of Chesterton. "—Sm Walter Scott, 
Note to Second Edition, 

CANTO THIRD 

I, 1. The narrative, broken off at the end of Canto 

I, is resumed. 
IV, 16. From Indians fires to Zemhla's frost. Give 

this thought a literal expression. 

IX, 11. And deem'd it the lament of men, etc. 

Cf. "My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is 
not here ; 

My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer ; 

A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe — 

My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. " 

— Burns. 
14-18. On Susquehanna's swampy ground, etc. It is 

still less than a century since Scott penned this 

picture of "darkest" America! Marmion was 

written in 1806. 
XIII, 12. A death-peal rung. "Among other omens 

to which faithful credit is given among the 



NOTES CANTO THIRD 307 

Scottish peasantry, is what is called the *dead 
beir explained by my friend James Hogg, to be 
that tinkling in the ears which the country 
people regard as the secret intelligence of some 
friend's decease. "—Sir Walter Scott. Can 
we not explain this delusion physiologically? 

XV, 17. He gave secret way, i. e., permission; sanction. 

XVII, 7. Fierce and unfeminine. Doubtless refers to 
looks. See line 2. 

XIX, 12. Gave you (time or opportunity) that cavern 

to survey. 
13. Of lofty roof and ample size. *'A stair of 
twenty-four steps led down to this apartment, 
which is a large and spacious hall, with an 
arched roof; and though it had stood for so 
many centuries, and been exposed to the 
external air for a period of fifty or sixty years, 
it is still as firm and entire as if it had only 
stood a few years. From the floor of this hall, 
another stair of thirty -six steps leads down to a 
pit which hath a communication with Hopes- 
water. A great part of the walls of this large 
and ancient castle are still standing. There is 
a tradition that the castle of Yester (or Gifford) 
was the last fortification, in this country, that 
surrendered to General Gray, sent into Scotland 
by Protector Somerset. "—Sir Walter Scott. 

XX, 7. There floated Haco's banner trim, etc. **In 

1263, Haco, King of Norway, came into the 
Firth of Clyde with a powerful armament, and 
made a descent at Largs, in Ayrshire. Here he 
was encountered and defeated, on the 2nd of 
October, by Alexander III. Haco retreated to 
Orkney, where he died soon after this disgrace 
to his arms. There are still existing near the 
place of the battle, many barrows, some of 
which, having been opened, were found, as 
usual, to contain bones and urns." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 
15. But, in his wizard habit strange. ^^Magicians, 
as is well known, were very curious in the 
choice and form of their vestments. Their 
caps are oval, or like pyramids, with lappets on 
each side, and fur within. Their gowns are 
long, and furred with fox-skins, under which 



308 MARMION 

they have a linen garment reaching to the 
knee. Their girdles are three inches broad, and 
have many cabalistical names, with crosses, 
trines, and circles inscribed on them. Their 
shoes should be of new russet leather, with a 
cross cut upon them. Their knives are dagger- 
fashion; and their swords have neither guard 
nor scabbard. "—Sir Walter Scott. 

XXII, 14. As born upon that blessed night, etc. **It is 

a popular article of faith, that those who are 
born on Christmas, or Good Friday, have the 
power of seeing spirits and even of commanding 
them. The Spaniards imputed the haggard and 
downcast looks of their Philip II. to the disa- 
greeable visions to which this privilege sub- 
jected him. "—Sir Walter Scott. 
23. Tide what tide. Let happen what may. 

XXIII, 20. England's King. Edward I. of England, 

called '^Longshanks." 1272-1307. 

XXIV, 11-18. Of Largs, etc. See note to XX. 7. 

23. A royal city, tower and spire. See note to Intro. 
I. VII. 4 

XXV, 1. The joyful King turn'd home again. The 

conclusion of the midnight encounter is left to 
the reader's imagination. 

15. And many a knight, etc. * 'The northern cham- 
pions of old were accustomed peculiarly to 
search for, and delight in, encounters with 
such military spectres." — Sir Walter Scott. 

19. Wallace wight. Suggest a rhetorical reason 
for the poet's habitual combining of the adjec- 
tive wight with the name of Wallace. See 
Intro. II. IV. 12; also Intro. III. VII. 46. 
XXIX, 13. An empty race. Illusive, unreal; frivolous, 
fantastic. 

introduction to canto fourth. 
Dedication. — James Skene, Esq., of Rubislaw, Aber- 
deenshire, was cornet of the Royal Edinburgh Light 
Horse Volunteers and Sir Walter Scott was Quarter- 
master of the same corps. 
I, 3. That motley clown in Arden wood. Touch- 
stone, in As You Like It. 
10. First dreio the voluntary brand. See Skene, 
above. 



NOTES INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH 309 

II, 6. Whose voice inspired, etc. See Intro. I. 1. 

IV, 6. Marion. A generic term used to designate a 
shepherd's sweetheart. 

V, 20. The cypress with the myrtle tie. The cypress, 
emblem of grief ; the myrtle, of love. See note 
following. 
27. Lamented Forbes, See Forbes, Glossary. 

*'His 'Life of Beattie' whom he befriended and 
patronized in life, as well as celebrated after 
his decease, was not long published before the 
benevolent and affectionate biographer was 
called to follow the subject of his narrative. 
This melancholy event very shortly succeeded 
the marriage of the friend to whom this intro- 
duction is addressed, with one of Sir William's 
daughters. "—Sir Walter Scott. 

VI, 27. Under the blossomed bough. 

"Where the bee sucks, there suck I; 
In the cowslip's bell I lie; 
There I couch when owls do cry, 
On the bat's back I do fly. 
After summer, merrily, 
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now. 
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough." 
— The Tempest (Ariel's song) V, I. 

VII, 9. And he whose absence we deplore. Colin 

Mackenzie of Portmore. 

12. And dear loved Eae. *'Sir William Rae, 
Bart., of St. Catharine's, subsequently Lord 
Advocate of Scotland, was a distinguished 
member of the volunteer corps to which Sir 
Walter Scott belonged; and he, the Poet, Mr. 
Skene, Mr. Mackenzie, and a few other friends, 
had formed themselves into a little semi-mili- 
tary club, the meetings of which were held at 
their family supper-tables in rotation." — Lock- 
hart. 

13. And one whose name I may not say. **The 
gentleman whose name the poet 'might not 
say, ' will now, it is presumed, pardon its intro- 
duction. The late Sir William Forbes of 
Pitsligo, Bart. , son of the author of the Life of 
Beattie, was another member of the volunteer 
corps and club." — Lockhart. 



310 MARMION 

CANTO FOURTH 

I, 31. Been lantern-led by Friar Rush. ** *The History 
of Friar Rush' is of extreme rarity, and for 
some time even the existence of such a book 
was doubted, although it is expressly alluded 
to by Reginald Scott in his * Discovery of 
Witchcraft.' I have perused a copy in the 
valuable library of my friend, Mr. Heber." 
— Sir Walter Scott. 
See Friar Rush, Glossary. 
Ill, 9. With English cross. The cross, or the sign of the 
cross, being regarded as potent in warding off sup 
ernatural spells, this threat is doubly significant. 

VI, 1. First came the trumpets, etc. Stanzas VI and 

VII are notable instances of Scott's attention 
to the details of description. 

VII, 7. The flash of that satiric rage, etc. Sir David 

Lindesay, (1490-1555) was one of the chief poets 
of Scotland in the period of literary inactivity 
between Chaucer and Spenser. He was noted 
for his scathing denunciation of the abuses of 
the Roman Church. 

VIII, 5-10. Whom royal James himself had crowned, 

etc. *'The office of heralds, in feudal times, 
being held of the utmost importance the inaugu- 
ration of the Kings-at-arms, who presided over 
their colleges, was proportionally solemn. In 
fact it was the mimicry of a royal coronation, 
except that the unction was made with wine 
instead of oil. In Scotland a namesake and 
kinsman of Sir David Lindesay, inaugurated in 
1592, *was crowned by King James with the 
ancient crown of Scotland, which was used 
before the Scottish kings assumed a close 
crown; and, on occasion of the same solem- 
nity, dined at the king's table wearing the 
crown. It is possible that the coronation of 
his predecessor was not less solemn. So sacred 
was the herald's office, that, in 1515, Lord 
Drummond was by Parliament declared guilty 
of treason, and his lands forfeited, because he 
had struck with his fist the Lion-King-at-arms, 
when he reproved him for his follies. Nor was 
he restored, but at the Lion's earnest solicita- 
tion."— SiR Walter Scott. 



NOTES CANTO FOURTH 311 

XI, 4. Have been the minstreVs loved resort. To 
whom does Scott refer? 
5-19. Oft have I traced, etc. '*The eastern front of 
the court (of Crichtoun Castle) is raised above 
a portico, and decorated with entablatures, 
bearing anchors. All the stones of this front are 
cut into diamond facets, the angular projections 
of which have an uncommonly rich appearance. 
The inside of this part of the building appears 
to have contained a gallery of great length and 
uncommon elegance. Access was given to it 
by a magnificent stair-case, now quite destroyed. 
The soffits are ornamented with twining cord- 
age and rosettes ; and the whole seems to have 
been far more splendid than was usual in Scot- 
tish castles. "—Sir Walter Scott. 
8. Quartered in old armorial sort. Divided into 
four parts according to the customary manner 
of arranging heraldic* devices upon the 
scutcheon or shield. 

XIII, 13. He knew (how) to prize. 

XV, 2. Built for the royal dwelling. ''In Scotland 
there are about twenty palaces, castles, and 
remains, or sites of such * where Scottish Kings 
of other years' had their royal home." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 
8. The wild buck hells from ferny brake. **I am 
glad of an opportunity to describe the cry of 
the deer by another word than braying, although 
the latter has been sanctified by the use of the 
Scottish metrical translation of the Psalms. 
-BeZZ seems to be an abbreviation of bellow." 
— Sir Walter Scott. 
13. The heaviest month. The most sorrowful. 
15. June saw his father's overthrow. *'The rebel- 
lion against James III. was signalized by the 
cruel circumstance of his son's presence in the 
hostile army. When the king saw his own 
banner displayed against him, and his son in 
the faction of his enemies, he lost the little 
courage he had ever possessed, fled out of the 
field, fell from his horse as it started at a 
woman and water-pitcher, and was slain, it is 
not well understood by whom. James IV., after 
the battle, passed to Stirling, and hearing the 



312 MARMION 

monks of the chapel-royal deploring the death 
of his father, their founder, he was seized with 
deep remorse, which manifested itself in severe 
penances. The battle of Sauchieburn, in which 
James III. fell, was fought 18th of June, 1488." 
—Sir Walter Scott. 
19. In offices as strict as Lent. Self-denial, pen- 
ance, fasting, prayer. Offices are the prescribed 
order or form for a service of the church or for 
devotional use. 

XVI, 9. In Katharine's aisle the Monarch knelt. 

''The king's throne in St. Catharine's aisle, 
which he had constructed for himself, with 
twelve stalls for the knight's companions of the 
Order of the Thistle, is still shown as the place 
where the apparition was seen." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 
34. The loved Apostle John. ''1 know not by what 
means St. Andrew got the credit of having been 
the celebrated monitor of James IV. ; for the 
expression in Lindesay's narrative, 'My mother 
has sent me, ' could only have been used by St. 
John, the adopted son of the Virgin Mary. The 
whole story is so well attested (i. e. by the 
personal information of Sir David Lindesay) 
that we have only a choice between a miracle 
and an imposture." — Sir Walter Scott. 

XVII, 20. The Marshal and myself. "I heard say Sir 

David Lindesay, Lyon-herauld, and John Inglis 
the marshal, who were at that time, yoxmig 
men, and special servants to the King's grace, 
were standing presently beside the King, who 
thought to have laid hands on this man, that 
they might have speired further tidings at him. 
But all for nought they could not touch him ; 
for he vanished away betwixt them, and was 
no more seen." — Pitscottie's narrative, quoted 
by Sir Walter Scott. 

XVIII, 11. Make your guest your game. Would 
have thought your intention was to play with 
my credulity ; deceive me for sport. 

XXII, 16. Dromouchty, or Glenmore. "The forest of 
Glenmore in the North Highlands, is believed 
to be haunted by a spirit called Lhamdearg, in 
the array of an ancient warrior, having a 



NOTES INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH 313 

bloody hand, from which he takes his name." 
— Sir Walter Scott. 

XXIII, XXIV. *'A certain ruggedness and bareness 
was the essence of Scott's idealism and romance. 
It was so in relation to scenery. He told Wash- 
ington Irving that he loved the very nakedness 
of the Border country. 'It has something' he 
said, *bold and stern and solitary about it. 
When I have been for some time in the rich 
scenery about Edinburgh, which is like orna- 
mented garden- land, I begin to wish myself 
back again among my honest grey hills, and if 
I did not see the heather as least once a year, I 
think I should die.'' " — Richard H. Hiittoii. 

XXVIII, 6. Scroll, pennon, etc. "Each of these feudal 
ensigns intimated the different rank of those 
entitled to display them." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 

11, 12. Pitch' d deeply in a massive stone, etc. *'Upon 
that, and similar occasions, the royal standard 
is traditionally said to have been displayed from 
the Hare-Stane, a high stone, now built into the 
wall, on the left hand of the highway leading 
towards Braid, not far from the head of Brunts- 
field Links. The Hare-Stane probably derives 
its name from the British word Har signifying 
an army. ' ' — Sir Walter Scott. 
18. The ruddy lion ramp'd in gold. The well- 
known arms of Scotland. 

XXX, 18. Mine own romantic town. What is the 
source of the peculiar charm of this climax? 

introduction to canto fifth 
Dedication. — George Ellis, Esq. * 'Scott had made 
even before the publication of his Border Minstrelsy, 
not a few friends in London or its neighborhood, — of 
whom the most important at this time was the grey- 
eyed, hatchet-faced, courteous George Ellis, as Leyden 
described him, the author of various works, on ancient 
English poetry and romance, who combined with a 
shrewd satirical vein, and a great knowledge of the 
world, political as well as literary, an exquisite taste 
in poetry, and a warm heart. Certainly Ellis's criti- 
cism on his poems was the truest and best that Scott 
ever received." — Richard H. Hutton. 



314 MARMION 

I, 5, 6. A cold mid profitless regard, etc. The reference 

is to the custom of patronage, by which some 
great person gave favor and support to some 
man of letters. Cf. note to Introduction I. 
XVI, 5. 

II, 1, 2. Not here need my desponding rhyme. I have no 

reason for regret or lamentation. 
3, 4. As erst by Newark's riven towers, etc. See 
Introduction to II. II. III. 
5. True — Caledonia's Queen is changed. *The Old 
Town of Edinburgh was secured on the north 
side by a lake, now drained, and on the south 
by a wall, which there was some attempt to 
make defensible even so late as 1745. The 
gates, and the greater part of the wall, have 
been pulled down, in the course of the late 
extensive and beautiful enlargement of the 
city. ' '—Sir Walter Scott. 
15-19. But not so long, etc. But it is not so long 
since a "studded gate" was closed at night and 
a small wicket-gate supplied the only entrance 
until dawn. 

25. Flinging thy white arms to the sea. **Since 
writing this line I find I have inadvertently 
borrowed it almost verbatim, though with a 
somewhat different meaning, from ^Caracta- 
cus' : — 

* Britain heard the descant bold 
She flung her white arms o'er the sea, 
Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold 
The freight of harmony.' " 

—Sir Walter Scott. 

26. For thy dark cloud. Instead of, etc. 

III, 1. Not she, the Championess of old, etc. Brito- 

marte or Britomart, *'a lady knight," repre- 
senting chastity. Her deeds are recounted in 
Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book III. 
6. What time she was MaTbecco's guest, etc. The 
personal charms of Britomart, when fully 
revealed by the removal of her knightly armor 
are described by Scott in this stanza, which is 
a perfect reproduction in miniature of the scene 
in Malbecco's castle described in the Faerie 
Queene, Bk. Ill, Canto IX, XX-XXIV. 



M 



NOTES INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH 315 

17. But looking liked, and liking loved. *'Yet 
every one her liked and every one her loved. '^ 
— Spenser. 

IV. This stanza completes the simile suggested in 
Stanzas II-III. 

12. Thy dauntless voluntary line. Voluntary- 
defenders in arms. 

13. For fosse and turret. Instead of, etc. 

29, 30. Conquering York. . . . Henry meek. See Glos- 
sary. 
32. Great Bourbon's relics. The Bourbon family 
was one of the most illustrious of the ruling 
houses of France and of other European powers. 
Henry IV. of Navarre, who succeeded to the 
throne of France in 1589, was the first king of 
that blood. **In January, 1796, the exiled 
Count d' Artois, afterwards Charles X. of 
France, took up his residence in Holy rood, 
where he remained until August, 1799. When 
again driven from his country by the Revo- 
lution of July, 1830, the same unfortunate 
prince, with all the immediate members of his 
family, sought refuge once more in the ancient 
palace of the Stuarts, and remained there till 
the 18th September, 1832."— Sm Walter 
Scott. 

VI, 4. Could win the royal Henry's ear. Henry I., of 
England (11004135). 

11-29. O! horn, Time's ravage to repair, etc. A fervent 
apostrophe to Mr. George Ellis, to whom the poet 
inscribes this Introduction. 

VIII, 5. Till Windsor's oaks, etc. "At Sunning-hill, 
Mr. Ellis's seat, near Windsor, part of the first 
two cantos of Marmion were written." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

6. The northern strain. The song of Scotland's 
poet. 

7. Bold in thy applause. Proceeding confidently, 
encouraged by thy approval. 

8. Pedantic laws. Over-refined poetic rules, i. e., 
the rules of Pope and his school. 

13. So shall he strive. See the fulfillment of this 
promise in many brilliant and vivid stanzas of 
Canto V and VI. 



316 MARMION 



CANTO FIFTH 

I, 1. The train has left the hills of Braid. The narra- 
tive interrupted at IT. XXIII is resumed. 

6. And carried pikes as they rode through. The 
guard, as Marmion's train rode through, 
assumed the position required by the order 
Present arms in the Manual of Arms. 

12. Such length of shafts, such mighty hows. See 
cloth-yard arroivs, Glossary. 

II, 4. Such various band. Note their enumeration 

which follows : They are men at arms, knights, 
and squires, burghers, yeomen, borderers, 
Highlanders, and Isles-men. 

16. The sword sway might descend amain, etc. If 
the horsemen took advantage of the moment 
when the horse was in the height of the cur- 
vett, to strike his foeman with his sword, the 
descending blow would fall with greater force 
and weight. 

19. With faces hare. **The Scottish burgesses 
. . . wore bright steel caps without crest or 
visor." — Sir Walter Scott. 

26. Two-handed sivords. Heavy swords which 
were wielded with both hands. 

III, 1. On foot the yeomen, too. ^'Almost all the Scot- 

tish forces except a few knights, men-at-arms, 
and the Border prickers, who formed excellent 
light cavalry, acted upon foot." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 
4 Each at his hack, etc. **When the feudal array 
of the kingdom was called forth, each man was 
obliged to appear with forty days' provisions. 
When this was expended, which took place 
before the battle of Flodden, the army melted 
away, of course." — Sir Walter Scott. 

7. His arms were halbert, axe, or spear. **Bows 
and quivers were in vain recommended to the 
peasantry of Scotland, by repeated statutes; 
spears and axes seem universally to have been 
used instead of them."— Sir Walter Scott. 

rV, 33. Brown Maudlin. Some favorite woman, 
friend or relative, of the Borderer's acquaint- 
ance. 

V, 5. And ivild and garish semblance made. They 
made a grotesque appearance. 



NOTES CANTO FIFTH 317 

IX, 20. The pressure of Ms iron belt. ** Few readers 

need to be reminded of this belt, to the weight 
of which James added certain ounces every year 
that he lived. Pitscottie founds his belief that 
James was not slain in the battle of Flodden, 
because the English never had this token of the 
iron belt to show to any Scottish man. The 
person and character of James are delineated 
according to our best historians. His romantic 
disposition, which led him highly to relish gay- 
ety, approaching to license, was at the same time, 
tinged with enthusiastic devotion. These pro- 
pensities sometimes formed a strange contrast. 
He was wont, during his fits of devotion, to 
assume the dress, and conform to the rules, of 
the order of Franciscans ; and when he had thus 
done penance for some time in Stirling, to 
plunge again into the tide of pleasure. Prob- 
ably, too, with no unusual inconsistency, he 
sometimes laughed at the superstitious observ- 
ances to which he at other times subjected him- 
self."— Sir Walter Scott. 
22. In memory of his father slain. See note to IT. 
XV. 15. 

X, 2. Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway. See 

note to I. XIII. 2. *'Our historians impute to 
the King's infatuated passion the delays which 
led to the fatal defeat of Flodden. "—Sir 
Walter Scott. 
5. Who Cessfords gallant heart had gored. 
**Heron of Ford had been, in 1511, in some sort 
accessory to the slaughter of Sir Robert Kerr of 
Cessford, Warden of the West Marches. Part 
of the pretence of Lady Ford's negotiations 
with James was the liberty of her husband" 
(who had been delivered up by Henry to James 
and imprisoned in the Fortress of Fastcastle). 
—Sir Walter Scott. 
11. Sent him a turquois ring and glove. **A tur- 
quois ring; probably this fatal gift, is, with 
James's sword and dagger preserved in the 
College of Heralds, London."— Sir Walter 
Scott. 
XIV, 11. Bell-the-Cat. '* Archibald Douglas, Earl of 
Angus, a man remarkable for strength of body 



318 MAEmON 

and mind, acquired the popular name of Bell- 
the-Cat, upon the following remarkable occa- 
sion: James the Third, of whom Pitscottie 
complains, that he delighted more in music and 
•policies of building' than in hunting, hawking 
and other noble exercises, was so ill advised as 
to make favorites of his architects and musi- 
cians, whom the same historian irreverently 
terms masons and fiddlers. His nobility, who 
did not sympathize with the Eang's respect for 
the fine arts, were extremely incensed at the 
honors conferred on those persons, particularly 
on Cochran, a mason, who had been created Earl 
of Mar, and seizing the opportunity, when, in 
1482, the King had convoked the whole array of 
the country to march against the English, they 
held a midnight council in the church of 
Lauder, for the purpose of forcibly removing 
these minions from the King's person. When 
all had agreed on the propriety of this measure, 
Lord Gray told the assembly the apologue of 
the Mice, who had formed a resolution, that it 
would be highly advantageous to their com- 
munity to tie a bell around the cat's neck, that 
they might hear her approach at a distance; 
but which public measure unfortunately mis- 
carried, from no mouse being willing to 
undertake the task of fastening the bell. 'I 
understand the moral.' said Angus, 'and, that 
what we propose may not lack execution, 1 
icill hell the cat ' " 
27. And chafed his royal Lord. ^^ Angus was an 
old man when the war against England was 
resolved upon. He earnestly spoke against that 
measure from its commencement, and, on the 
eve of the battle of Flodden, remonstrated so 
freely upon the impoHcy of fighting, that the 
King said to him, with scorn and indignation, 
*If he was afraid he might go home.' The Earl 
burst into tears at this insupportable insult and 
retired accordingly, leaving his sons George, 
Master of Angus, and Sir TTilliam of Glenbervie, 
to command his followers. They were both 
slain in the battle, with two hundred gentlemen 
of the name of Douglas. The aged Earl, broken- 



NOTES CANTO FIFTH- 319 

hearted at the calamities of his house and his 
country, retired into a religious house, where he 
died about a year after the field of Flodden." 
—Sir Walter Scott. 

XV, 18. He ivears their motto on his blade. *'A very 

ancient sword, in possession of Lord Douglas, 
bears, among a great deal of flourishing, two 
hands pointing to a heart, which is placed 
betwixt them, and the date, 1329." — Sir 
Walter Scott. See Bloody heart, Glossary. 

XVI, 1. In answer nought could Angus speak. See 

note XIV. 27. 

XX, 18. Save torches gliding far. Before street-light- 

ing came into vogue, the services of torch-bear- 
ers were not only a means of convenience, but 
often of safety as well. 

XXI, 9-31. De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd, etc. 

Lord Jeffrey's criticism of this passage is as 
follows: ''There are passages in which the 
tediousness and flatness of the narrative is 
relieved by no sort of beauty nor elegance of 
diction, and which form an extraordinary con- 
trast with the more animated and finished por- 
tions of the poem. We shall not afflict our 
readers with more than one specimen of this 
falling off. We select it from the Abbess's 
explanation to De Wilton: 'De Wilton and 
Lord Marmion ivoo'd/ etc., and twenty -two 
following lines." 
37. Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved. "It 
was early necessary for those who felt them- 
selves obliged to believe in the divine judgment 
being enunciated in the trial by duel, to find 
salvos for the strange and obviously pre- 
carious chances of the conflict." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 

XXIV, 22. A strong emotion shook, etc. How do 

you account for De Wilton's emotion? How 
did the Abbess account for it? 

XXV, 15. While nought confirmed. Nothing definite 

or distinct. 
27. This awful summons came. "This supernatural 
citation is mentioned by all our Scottish his- 
torians. It was, probably, like the apparition 



320 MARMION 

at Linlithgow (see IT. XVI, XVII), an 

attempt, by those averse to the war, to impose 
upon the superstitious temper of James IV." — 
Sir Walter Scott. Account for the poet's 
introduction of the incident here, from an 
artistic point of view. 

XXVIII, 23. Tlie cause. I.e. Clara de Clare. 

XXIX, 4. Before a venerable pile. *'The convent 

alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns 
near North Berwick, of which there are still 
some remains. It was founded by Duncan, 
Earl of Fife, in 1216."— Sir Walter Scott. 

XXX, 33. To curse with candle, hell, and hook. A 

solemn form of excommunication used in the 
Eoman Catholic Church, the bell being tolled, 
the book of offices for the purpose being used, 
and three candles being extinguished with 
certain ceremonies. " — Wehster. 

XXXI, 10. Drove the monks forth of Coventry. *'This 

relates to the catastrophe of a real Robert de 
Marmion (see Marmion, Glossary), in the reign 
of King Stephen, whom William of Newbury 
describes with some attributes of my fictitious 
hero. . . . This Baron, having expelled the 
monks from the church of Coventry, was not 
long in experiencing the Divine judgment, as 
the same monks, no doubt, termed his disaster. 
Having waged a feudal war with the Earl of 
Chester, Marmion' s horse fell, as he charged in 
the van of his troop, against a body of the 
Earl's followers; the rider's thigh being broken 
by the fall, his head was cut off by a common 
foot-soldier, ere he could receive any succour." 
—Sir Walter Scott. 
27. St. Anton fire thee! May St. Anthony's fire 
[i. e. , the erysipelas] consume thee ! 

XXXII, 8. That I must find no sanctuary, etc. An- 
ciently all churches were asylums to which 
criminals, or other persons distressed or perse- 
cuted, might flee for shelter. It was intended 
to preserve the refugees from summary or 
revengeful punishment. In the course of 
time, the Right of Sanctuary was so abused 
that the privilege was abolished. 



NOTES INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH 321 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 

Dedication. — Richard Heher, Esq. **You may find 
an account of Heber in an old file of The Gentleman's 
Magazine. He began in his youth by making a library 
of the classics. Then he became interested in rare 
English books, and collected them con amove for thirty 
years. He was very rich, and he had never given host- 
ages to fortune ; it was therefore possible for him to 
indulge his fine passion without stint. He bought only 
the best books, and he bought them by thousands and 
tens of thousands. He would have held as foolishness 
that saying from the Greek which exhorts one to do 
nothing too much. According to Heber's theory, it is 
impossible to have too many good books. Usually one 
library is supposed to be enough for one man. Heber 
was satisfied only with eight libraries, and then he was 
hardly satisfied. He had a library in his house at 
Hodnet. *His residence in Pimlico, where he died, was 
filled, like Magliabecchi's at Florence, with books from 
the top to the bottom ; every chair, every table, every 
passage containing piles of erudition. ' He had a house 
in York Street which was crowded with books. He 
had a library in Oxford, one at Paris, one at Antwerp, 
one at Brussels, and one at Ghent. The most accurate 
estimate of his collections places the number at 
146,827 volumes. Heber is believed to have spent half 
a million dollars for books. After his death the col- 
lections were dispersed. The catalogue was published 
in twelve parts, and the sales lasted over three years." 
— Leon H. Vincent. 

I, 14. While round, in brutal jest, etc. ^*The humour 
of the Danes at table displayed itself in pelting 
each other with bones."— Sir Walter Scott. 
20. And dancing round the blazing pile. *'The 
dances of the northern warriors round the great 
fires of pine-trees are commemorated by Olaus 
Magnus, who says they danced with such fury, 
holding each other by the hands, that, if the 
grasp of any failed, he was pitched into the fire 
with the velocity of a sling. The sufferer, on 
such occasions, was instantly plucked out, and 
obliged to quaff off a certain measure of ale, as 
a penalty for 'spoiling the King's fire.' "—Sir 
Walter Scott. 



322 MARMION 

II, 8. On Christmas eve the mass was sung. **In 

Roman Catholic countries, mass is never said 
at night, except on Christmas eve." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

III, 6. No mark to part the squire and lord. In feudal 

times it was customary for the nobles to occupy 
a raised platform at one end of the hall while 
their followers ate at a lower table. See I. 
XIII. 5-8. 
26. Traces of ancient mystery. **It seems certain 
that the Mummers of England, who (in Nor- 
thumberland at least) used to go about in dis- 
guise to the neighboring houses, bearing the 
then useless ploughshare ; and the Guisards of 
Scotland, not yet in total disuse, present, in 
some indistinct degree, a shadow of the old 
mysteries, which were the origin of the English 
drama. In Scotland, we were wont, during my 
boyhood, to take the characters of the apostles, 
at least of Peter, Paul and Judas Iscariot ; the 
first had the Keys, the second carried a sword, 
and the last a bag, in which the dole of our 
neighbours' plumcake was deposited. One 
played a champion and recited some traditional 
rhymes; another was 

^Alexander, King of Macedon, 
Who conquered all the world but Scotland 

alone. 
When he came to Scotland his courage grew 

cold. 
To see a little nation courageous and bold. ' 

These and many such verses, were repeated, 
but by rote, and unconnectedly. There was 
also occasionally, I believe, a Saint George. In 
all there was a confused resemblance to the 
ancient mysteries, in which the characters of 
Scripture, the Nine Worthies, and other popu- 
lar personages, were usually exhibited." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

IV, 8. Is warmer than the mountain stream. ** *Blood 

is warmer than water,' — a proverb meant to 
vindicate our family predilections." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 
10. Where my great grandsire came of old. Mer- 



NOTES INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH 323 

toun-house, where the epistle in the text is 
dated. The allusion is pertinent because the 
lines following are partly adapted from the 
rhymed invitation received by the poet's grand- 
father to pay a Christmas visit at this ancient 
seat of the Harden family. "The venerable 
old gentleman . . . contrived to lose what 
property he had, by engaging in the civil wars 
and intrigues of the house of Stuart. His ven- 
eration for the exiled family was so great, that 
he swore he would not shave his beard till they 
were restored." — Sir Walter Scott. 

V, 4, 5. And flies constraint, etc. Give this expres- 

sion the natural arrangement of the English 
sentence. 
9. And Mertoun's halls. Mertoun-house, the seat 
of Hugh Scott, Esq., of Harden, is beautifully 
situated on the Tweed, about two miles below 
Dryburgh Abbey. 

VI, 18-20. To jostle conjurer, etc. In the remaining 

lines of VI. Scott makes a playful plea for his 
employment of the supernatural, citing as pre- 
cedents, the use of the theme by the greatest 
of classic poets. Homer and Virgil, and by 
Livy, chief of Eoman historians. 

VII, 5. And shun ^Hhe spirit' s Blasted Tree.^^ See 

Glendowerdy, Glossary. 
8. Will, on a Friday morn. "The Daoine shi\ or 
Men of Peace, of the Scottish Highlanders, 
rather resemble the Scandinavian Duergar, 
than the English Fairies. Notwithstanding 
their name, they are, if not absolutely malev- 
olent, at least peevish, discontented and apt to 
do mischief on slight provocation. The belief 
of their existence is deeply impressed on the 
Highlanders, who think they are particularly 
offended at mortals who talk of them, who 
wear their favourite colour, green, or in any 
respect interfere with their affairs. This is 
especially to be avoided on Friday, when, 
whether as dedicated to Venus, with whom, in 
Germany, this subterraneous people are held 
nearly connected, or for a more solemn reason, 
they are more active, and possessed of greater 
power." — Sir Walter Scott. 



324 MARMION 

VIII, 8. By the last Lord of Franchemont. Near the 

pretty little village of Franchemont (near 
Spaw) are "the romantic ruins of the old castle 
of the Counts of that name. The road leads 
through many delightful vales on a rising 
ground ; at the extremity of one of them stands 
the ancient castle, now the subject of many 
superstitious legends." — Diary of James Skene, 
quoted by Sir Walter Scott. It is one of 
these legends of Franchemont which the poet 
recounts in IX, X. 

IX, 2. Old Pitseottie. Eobert Lindsay of Pitscottie, 

author of the Chronicles of Scotland, from 
which many of the incidents of Marmion are 
taken. 
7. The Monk of Durham. See Cuthhert, Glossary. 
23. Thy volumes, open as thy heart. *'Heber had a 
genius for friendship as well as for gathering 
together choice books. Sir Walter Scott 
addressed verses to him. ... In brief, the 
sketch of Heber in The Gentleman's Magazine 
for January, 1834, contains a list of forty-six 
names, — all men of distinction by birth, learn- 
ing, or genius, and all men who were proud to 
caU Richard Heber friend." — Leon H. Vincent. 

CANTO SIXTH. 

I, 1. On the gale. "In the wind," in modern idiom. 
IV, 13. And smiling on her votaries' prayer. "I 
shall only produce one instance more of the 
great veneration paid to Lady Hilda, which still 
prevails even in these our days; and that is, 
the constant opinion, that she rendered, and 
still renders, herself visible, on some occasions, 
in the Abbey of Whitby, where she so long 
resided. At a particular time of the year (viz. , 
in the summer months), at ten or eleven in the 
forenoon, the sunbeams fall in the inside of the 
northern part of the choir; and 'tis then that 
the spectators, who stand on the west side of 
Whitby churchyard, so as just to see the most 
northerly part of the abbey past the north end 
of Whitby church, imagine they perceive in 
one of the highest windows there, the resem- 



NOTES CANTO SIXTH 325 

blance of a woman, arrayed in a shroud. 
Though we are certain this is only a reflection 
caused by the splendor of the sunbeams, yet 
fame reports it, and it is constantly believed 
among the vulgar, to be an appearance of Lady 
Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified 
state." — Charlton's History of Whitby y quoted 
by Sir Walter Scott. 

20. Well I knew 

(How) to pay thy kindness grateful due, 

V, 18, It). Expect not, noble dames and lords, 
That I can tell such scene in words. 

"The bolder Englishman (I am told) will write 
a love-chapter and then go out, quite coolly, to 
dinner, but such goings on are contrary to the 
Scotch nature; even the great novelists dare 
not. Conceive Mr. Stevenson left alone with a 
hero, a heroine, and a proposal impending (he 
does not know where to look). Sir Walter in 
the same circumstances gets out of the room by 
making his love-scenes take place between the 
end of one chapter and the beginning of the 
next, but he could afford to do anything, and 
the small fry must e'en to their task." — James 
M. Barrie. 
VI. De Wilton's History. "When the surprise at 
meeting a lover rescued from the dead is con- 
sidered, the above picture will not be thought 
overcharged with colouring ; and yet the painter 
is so fatigued with his exertion, that he has 
finally thrown away his brush, and is contented 
with merely chalking out the intervening 
adventures of De Wilton, without bestowing 
on them any colours at all." Editor British 
Poets. Will not Lord Jeffrey's criticism (see 
note to Y. XXI. 9-31) apply with equal perti- 
nence to De Wilton's History? 

Vn, 4. Fame of my fate made various sound. There 
were various rumors concerning my fate. 

VIII, 6. I borrowed steed and mail, etc. Compare De 
Wilton's account of the midnight adventure 
with that of Marmion, IV. XIX, XXI. 



326 MARMION 

IX, 4. Won by my proofs, etc. In feudal times an 
elder noble was privileged to confer knight- 
hood. 
17. And now I icatch my armour here. Watching 
the armor was one of the conditions attending 
the ceremony of conferring knighthood. 

XI, 23. He gave rude Scotland VirgiVs page. See 

Gaicain Douglas, Glossary. 
34. As icood-knife lops the sapling spray. ^* Angus 
had strength and personal activity correspond- 
ing to his courage. Spens of Kilspindie, a 
favorite of James IV., having spoken of him 
lightly, the Earl met him while hawking, and, 
compelling him to single combat, at one blow 
cut asunder his thigh-bone, and killed him on 
the spot. But ere he could obtain James' par- 
don for this slaughter, Angus was obliged to 
yield his castle of Hermitage, in exchange for 
that of Bothwell, which was some diminution 
to the family greatness. The sword with 
which he struck so remarkable a blow was 
presented by his descendant, James, Earl of 
Morton, afterwards Regent of Scotland, to 
Lord Lindesay of the Byres, when he defied 
Bothwell to single combat onCarberry Hill." — 
Sir Walter Scott. 

XII, 1-4. Theii at the altar Wilton kneels, etc. A 

conspicuous example of incongruous tense- 
forms. 
9. Then Douglas struck him ivith his blade, etc. 

See knight, chivalry, in any good cyclopaedia. 
26. I have tivo sons in yonder field. See note V. 
XIV. 27. 

XIII, XIV. "This ebullition of violence in the potent 
Earl of Angus is not without example in the real 
history of the house of Douglas, whose chief- 
tains possessed the ferocity, with the heroic 
virtues, of a savage stale." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 

XV 1-8. Tlie steed cdong the draicbridge flies, etc. 
Incongruity of tense-forms too noticeable to be 
overlooked. 

13, 14. St. Jude to speed! 

Did ever knight so foid a deed! 



NOTES CANTO SIXTH 327 

Literally, as St. Jude shall speed [i. e., aid] 
me, I declare I never knew knight to do a deed 
so evil. ''Lest the reader should partake of the 
Earl's astonishment, and consider the crime as 
inconsistent with the manners of the period, I 
have to remind him of the nimaerous forgeries 
(partly executed by a female assistant) devised 
by Robert of Artois, to forward his suit against 
the Countess Matilda; which, being detected, 
occasioned his flight into England, and proved 
the remote cause of Edward the Third's mem- 
orable wars in France. John Harding, also, 
was expressly hired by Edward VI. to forge 
such documents as might appear to establish 
the claim of fealty asserted over Scotland by 
the English monarchs."— Sir Walter Scott. 

XVIII, 8. A reverend pilgrim dwells. The reverend 
Patrick Brydone, Esq. , a personal friend of the 
poet's. 

XIX, 3. Leave Barmore-wood, etc. ''On the evening 

previous to the memorable battle of Flodden, 
Surrey's headquarters were at Barmoor Wood, 
and King James held an inaccessible position 
on the ridge of Flodden-hill, one of the last and 
lowest eminences detached from the ridge of 
Cheviot. The Till, a deep and slow river, winded 
between the armies. On the morning of 
the 9th of September, 1513, Surrey marched in 
a northwesterly direction, and crossed the Till, 
with his van and artillery, at Twisel Bridge, 
nigh where that river joins the Tweed (see 
map), his rear guard column passing about a 
mile higher, by a ford. This movement had 
the double effect of placing his army between 
King James and his supplies from Scotland, 
and of striking the Scottish monarch with sur- 
prise, as he seems to have relied on the depth 
of the river in his front. But as the passage, 
both over the river and through the ford, was 
difficult and slow, it seems possible that the 
English might have been attacked to great 
advantage while struggling with these natural 
obstacles. I know not if we are to impute 
James' forbearance to want of military skill, or 
to the romantic declaration which Pitscottie 



328 MARMION 

puts in his inouth, 'that he was determined 
to have his enemies before him on a plain 
field, ' and therefore would suffer no interrup- 
tion to be given, even by artillery, to their 
passing the river. 

*'The ancient bridge of Twisel, by which the 
English crossed the Till, is still standing 
beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile of 
Gothic architecture, as now rebuilt by Sir 
Francis Blake, Bart., whose extensive planta- 
tions have so much improved the country 
around. The glen is romantic and delightful, 
with steep banks on each side, covered with 
copse, particularly with hawthorne. Beneath a 
tall rock near the bridge is a plentiful fountain 
called St. Helen's Well.''— Sir Walter Scott. 

XXI, 16. ''Stint in thy prate,'' quoth Blount. **The 

speeches of Squire Blount are a great deal to® 
unpolished for a noble youth aspiring to knight- 
hood." — Lord Jeffrey. 
20. The river must he quiekly crossed. What rirer? 
In what direction? See map. 

XXII, 7,8. The pheasant in the falcon's claw 

He scarce will yield to please a daw. 
Who is the pheasant of the metaphor? the fal- 
con? the dawf 

XXIII, 1-3. Hence might they see the full array, etc. 
*'The reader cannot here expect a full account 
of the battle of Flodden ; but, so far as is neces- 
sary to understand the romance, I beg to 
remind him, that, when the English army, by 
their skilful countermarch, was fairly placed 
between King James and his own country, the 
Scottish monarch resolved to fight ; and, setting 
fire to his tents (see XXV. 11), descended from 
the ridge of Flodden to secure the neighboring 
eminence of Brankstone, on which that village 
is built. Thus the two armies met, almost with- 
out seeing each other (see XXV. 19-26), when 
according to the old poem of Tlodden Field,' 

*The English line stretched east and west, 
And southward were their faces set ; 

The Scottish northward proudly prest. 
And manfully their foes they met.' " 

—Sir Walter Scott. 



NOTES CANTO SIXTH 329 



PLAN OF ARRANGEMENT OF THE TWO ARMIES. 



(north) 

Dacre- reserve. 

English Line. 



Eight Center Left 

Thos. and Ed. Howard Surrey Stanley 

Himtley and Home King James IV. Lennox and ArgyU 
Left Center Right 

Scottish Line 

Bothwell- reserve 

(SOUTH) 

XXIII, 13. Here shalf thou tarry, lovely Clare. **The 
spot from which Clara views the battle must 
be supposed to have been a hillock command- 
ing the rear of the English right wing which 
was defeated, and in which conflict Marmion 
is supposed to have fallen." — Sir Walter 
Scott. 

XXIV, 4. Thus have I ranged my powers. **The 

English army advanced in four divisions. On 
the right, which first engaged, were the sons of 
Earl Surrey, namely, Thomas Howard, the Ad- 
miral of England, and Sir Edmund, the Knight- 
Marshal of the army. Their divisions were 
separated from each other ; but, at the request 
of Sir Edmund, his brother's battalion was 
drawn very near to his own. The centre was 
commanded by Surrey in person ; the left wing 
by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of Lan- 
cashire, and of the palatinate of Chester. Lord 
Dacre, with a large body of horse, formed a 
reserve. ' ' — Sir Walter Scott. 
XXV-XXXV. ''Of all the poetical battles which have 
been fought, from the days of Homer to those 
of Mr. Southey, there is none, in our opinion, 
at all comparable, for interest and animation, 
— for breadth and magnificence of effect, — with 
this of Mr. Scott's." — Lord Jeffrey. 

XXV, 9. No hope of gilded spurs. When a young 

knight had proven his valor, he was said to 
have won his spurs. Full privileges of knight- 
hood were then conferred upon him and golden 



330 MAEMION 

spurs were bound to his heels by the hand of a 
fair lady. 
XXVI, XXVII. At length the freshening western blast y 
etc. "When the smoke which the wind had 
driven between the armies (XXV. 27) was 
somewhat dispersed, they perceived the Scots, 
who had moved down the hill in similar order 
of battle, and in deep silence. The Earls of 
Huntly and of Home commanded their left 
wing, and charged Sir Edmund Howard with 
such success as entirely to defeat his part of 
the English right wing (XXVII. 7-10). Sir 
Edmund's banner was beaten down, and he 
himself escaped with difficulty to his brother's 
division. The Admiral, however, stood firm; 
and Dacre (XXIV. 9-10), advancing to his sup- 
port with the reserve of cavalry (XXIX. 10,11), 
probably between the interval of the divisions 
commanded by the brothers Howard, appears 
to have kept the victors in effectual check. 
Home's men, chiefly Borderers, began to pillage 
the baggage of both armies (XXXIII. 14) ; and 
their leader is branded, by Scottish historians, 
with negligence or treachery. On the other 
hand, Huntly, on whom they bestow many 
encomiums, is said by the English historians, 
to have left the field after the first charge 
(XXXIII. 6). Meanwhile, the Admiral, whose 
flank these chiefs ought to have attacked, 
availed himself of their inactivity, and pushed 
forward against another large division of the 
Scottish army in his front, headed by the Earls 
of Crawford and Montrose, both of whom were 
slain, and their forces routed. On the left 
(XXVII. 1, 2), the success of the English was 
yet more decisive ; for the Scottish right wing, 
consisting of undisciplined Highlanders, com- 
manded by Lennox and Argyle, was unable to 
sustain the charge of Sir Edward Stanley, and 
especially the severe execution of the Lanca- 
shire archers (XXIX. 17, 18). The King and 
Surrey, who commanded the respective centres 
of their armies, were meanwhile engaged in 
close and dubious conflict. James, surrounded 
by the flower of his kingdom, and impatient of 



NOTES CANTO SIXTH 331 

the galling discharge of arrows, charged with 
such fury that the standard of Surrey was in 
danger. At that critical moment, Stanley 
(XXXII. 20-22), who had routed the left wing 
of the Scottish, pursued his career of victory, 
and arrived on the right flank, and in the rear 
of James' division, which, throwing itself into 
a circle, disputed the battle till night came on. 
Surrey then drew back his forces (XXXIV. 20- 
23); for the Scottish center not having been 
broken, and their left wing being victorious, he 
yet doubted the event of the field. The Scottish 
army, however, felt their loss, and abandoned 
the field of battle in disorder before dawn 
(XXXIV. 27-35)."— Sir Walter Scott. 

XXVIII, 23-28. Said— "By Saint George, he's goneP' 
etc. See Note XXI. 16. 

XXIX, 7. Last of my race. See Marmion, Glossary. 

XXXI, 20-25. I would the Fiend, etc. Cf . II. XXXI. 

XXXII, 5. Ever, he (Marmion) said. 

9, 10. In the lost battle, etc. See III. XI. 
12. Avoid thee, Fiend, etc. Whose words are 
these? 

XXXIII, 9. King Charles. Charlemagne, founder of the 
Holy Roman Empire. Crowned by Pope Leo 
III., 800 A. D. 

14. To quit the plunder of the slain. See Note 
XXVI, XXVII. 

XXXIV, 37. To tell red Flodden's dismal tale. *'They 
(the Scotch) lost perhaps from eight to ten 
thousand men; but that included the very 
prime of their nobility, gentry, and even clergy. 
Scarce a family of eminence but has an ances- 
tor killed at Flodden ; and there is no province 
in Scotland, even at this day, where the battle 
is mentioned without a sensation of terror and 
sorrow. The English lost also a great number 
of men, perhaps within one-third of the van- 
quished, but they were of inferior note. ' ' — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

XXXV, 5. View not that corpse mistrustfully, etc. 
"There can be no doubt that King James fell 
in the battle of Flodden. 'He was killed, ' says 
the curious French Gazette, 'within a lance's 
length of the Earl of Surrey'; and the same 



332 MARMION 

account adds, that none of his division were 
made prisoners, though many were killed; a 
circumstance which testifies the desperation of 
their resistance. The Scottish historians record 
many of the idle reports which passed among 
the vulgar of their day. Home was accused, 
by the popular voice, not only of failing to sup- 
port the King, but even of having carried him 
out of the field, and murdered him (11. 7, 8). 
. . . Other reports . . . averred that 
James, weary of greatness after the carnage 
among his nobles, had gone on a pilgrimage, 
to merit absolution for the death of his father, 
and the breach of his oath of amity to Henry 
(11. 9-12). In particular, it was objected to the 
English, that they could never show the token 
of the iron belt (Y. IX. 20-22) ; which, however, 
he was likely enough to have laid aside on the 
day of battle, as encumbering his personal 
exertions. They produce a better evidence, the 
monarch's sword and dagger (11. 16-18) which 
are still preserved in the Heralds' College in 
London." — Sir Walter Scott. 

19. But O! how changed since yon blithe night! Cf . 
V. VIII, IX. 

XXXVI, 9. The fair cathedral stormed and took. '*This 
storm of Lichfield Cathedral, which had been 
garrisoned on the part of the King, took place in 
the Great Civil War. Lord Brook, who, with 
Sir John Gill, commanded the assailants, was 
shot with a musket-ball through the visor of 
his helmet. The Royalists remarked that he 
was killed by a shot fired from St. Chad's 
cathedral, and upon St. Chad's day (1. 10), and 
received the death- wound in the very eye with 
which he had said he hoped to see the ruin of 
all the cathedrals in England. "—Sir Walter 
Scott. 

20. The last Lord Marmion lay not there. **A 
corpse is afterwards conveyed, as that of Mar- 
mion, to the cathedral of Lichfield, where a 
magnificent tomb is erected to his memory, and 
masses are instituted for the repose of his soul ; 
but by an admirably imagined act of poetic jus- 
tice, we are informed that a peasant's body was 



NOTES CANTO SIXTH 333 

placed beneath the costly monument (11. 21-31), 
while the haughty Baron himself was buried 
like a vulgar corpse, on the spot on which he 
died" (XXXVII. 1-4.).— Monthly Review. 

XXXVIII, 16. In terms he said. In plain words. 

23, 24. That bluff King Hal, etc. Marriage customs 
of which we have many reminders in modern 
times. 



GLOSSARY 



According. In harmony with. II. 
XI. 8. 

Achaius. " King of Scotland, con- 
temporary of Charlemagne, and 
founder of the celebrated league 
with France." Sir Walter Scott. 
IV. VII. 19. 

Address'd. Directed or proceeding 
toward. I. XVIII. 5. 

Admiral, the. Thomas Howard, 
son of the Earl of Surrey. VI. 
XXIV. 14. 

Aisle. The wing or lateral division 
of a church. Sometimes a gen- 
eral term for church or sanc- 
tuary. I. XXI. 13. Also used to 
designate a vault or a crypt. II. 
XVII. 3. 

Albion. Poetic name for England. 
Intro. I. VII. 12. 

Alcides. Hercules. Intro. VI. VI. 
24. 

All. (1) Even; just. I. XI. 12. 
(2) Sometimes used simply to In- 
tensify the expression. III. XVI. 
10. 

Alne. A small river of Northum- 
berland. II. VIII. 15. 

Amadis of Gaul. A celebrated 
hero of romance, said to be a son 
of the fabulous King Perion of 
France. Intro. I. XVIII. 12. 

Amain. "With might; with full 
force. VI. XXIII. 27. 

An. If. VT. XIV. 4. 

Andrew, Saint. The patron saint 
of Scotland. VI. XX. 16. 

Angel. An ancient gold coin of 
England stamped with the figure 
of the Archangel Michael. Its 
value was about 10s. I. X. 8. 



Angus or Forfarshire. The coun- 
try north of the Firth of Tay. It 
was an ancient seat of the Doug- 
las family. Lord Angus. The 
Earl of Douglas. VI. XIV. 20. 

Arcadia. Sir Thomas More's pas- 
toral romance of Arcadia portrays 
an ideal country ideally governed. 
Intro. IV. IV. 8. 

Arden VTood. The Forest of 
Arden, where the principal scenes 
of Shakspere's As You Like It 
are laid. Intro. IV. I. 3. 

Argent. Silver (a term of heraldry). 
IV. VI. 10. 

Ariel. The delicate air-spirit famil- 
iar to readers of Shakspere's 
The Tempest. Intro. IV. VI. 28. 

Armenie. Armenia. I. XXIII. 6 

Arminius. Leader of the North 
German tribes against the Ro- 
mans in the first century A.D. 
Intro. III. III. 36. 

Arran. An island off the west coast 
of Scotland. III. XX. 11. 

Ascapart and Bevis. Sir Bevis, the 
hero of an old tale of chivalry, 
was a knight-errant of Southamp- 
ton. He had for his associate a 
horrible giant, Ascapart. Intro. 
I. XVIII. 5. 

Ascension Day. The day on which 
the church commemorates the as- 
cension of our Savior. It occurs 
forty days after Easter. II. 
XIII. 8. 

Ascot plain. Ascot Heath, a fa- 
mous race-course in Berkshire, 
near Windsor. Intro. V. VIII. 5. 

Aves. Generally speaking, prayers 
or devotion. I. XXVI. 18. Ave! 



334 



GLOSSARY 



335 



Hail! The salutation in tlie Ro- 
man Catholic prayer to the Vir- 
gin. 

Aventayle. The movable front or 
visor of a helmet. Intro. Y. III. 
11. 

Ayton tower. A stronghold in 
Berwickshire, Scotland. I. XVIII. 
14. 

JBaldric. A broad belt worn over 
one shoulder, across the breast 
and under the opposite arm. V. 
VIII. 18. 

Baxnborough. A castle on the 
coast of Northumberland; one of 
the oldest strongholds in Great 
Britain. II. VIII. 21. 

Bandrol. A small flag or stream- 
er. IV. XXVIII. 6. 

Bannockbourne. A village of 
Scotland, situated about two 
miles southeast of Stirling. Here, 
in 1314, a battle was fought be- 
tween the English armies led by 
Edward II. and the Scottish 
forces under Robert Bruce. It re- 
sulted in a decisive victory for the 
Scots. VI. XX. 19. 

Bard. A singer or poet. Formerly, 
in Scotland, a strolling musician. 
Intro. I. XII. 10. See Mixstrel. 

Bartizan. A small projecting 
tower or other structure for out- 
look or defense. VI. II. 21. 

Basnet. (Also bascinet.) A light, 
open helmet. VI. XXI. 7. 

Bass, the. A rock-island of Had- 
dingtonshire, near the mouth of 
the Firth of Forth. Its history 
has been a remarkable one. In its 
dungeons, cut in solid rock, many 
eminent Covenanters were im- 
prisoned in the reigns of Charles 
II. and James II. It was the last 
stronghold of the Stuarts in Scot- 
land. V. XXIX. 6. 
Bastion. A structure projecting 



outward from the main rampart, 
and so built as to be able to de- 
fend, by a flanking fire, adjacent 
parts of the fortification. VI. 11. 
22. 

Batavia. A fortified city and sea- 
port of Java, capital of the Dutch 
possessions in the East. Intro. 
III. VI. 20. 

Beads. A rosary. I. XXVI. 17. 
Beads (to tell) . To use the rosary 
in repeating the prescribed pray- 
ers of the Roman church. V. 
XXVI. 40. St. Cuthbert's beads. 
See Note II. XVI. 3,4. Bid your 
beads. To count the beads of the 
rosary in prayer. VI. XXVII. 26. 

Beadsman. An almsman; a de- 
pendent priest whose duty was to 
pray for his patron or benefactor. 
VI. VI. 6. 

Bearings. Emblems in an escutch- 
eon or coat of arms. VI. 
XXXVIII. 14. 

Beauclerk. "Fine scholar." Henry 
I. of England 1100-1 J 35. Intro. 
V. VI. 5. 

Becket (St. Thomas 'a). Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury in the reign 
of Henry II. He opposed the 
king in his measures for the re- 
striction of the ecclesiastical 
courts. The quarrel culminated 
in the murder of the Archbishop, 
by four of Henry's knights, who 
basely slew him on the steps of 
the altar. He was canonized; 
hence the favorite oath. IV. I. 
13. 

Bede, Saint. An English monk 
and historian (673-735 A.D.), sur- 
named The Veiierable. He is 
buried in Durham Cathedral. I. 
XXI. 29. 

Belted. Wearing a belt in distinc- 
tion of knighthood. VI. IX. 
19. 

Benedicite. "Bless ye." The word 



336 



MARMION 



which begins the Latin version of 
a canticle in the Church ritual. 
II. II. 9. 

Benedictine. Belonging to the 
famous order of monks estab- 
lished by St. Benedict in the sixth 
century. The rules of St. Bene- 
dict were less rigid than those of 
many other ascetic orders. II. 
IV. 2. 

Bent. A steep hillside or declivity. 
IV. XXV. 4. 

Bernard, Saint. Abbot of Clair- 
vaux. One of the most powerful 
dignitaries of the medieval church. 
Died 1153. Canonized, 1174. VI. 
XVIII. 11. 

Bernardine. A monastic order 
founded in the twelfth century, 
and reformed by St. Bernard. They 
differ in little from the Cister- 
cians. VI. XVIII. 9. 

Berwick. A fortified seaport of 
Great Britain, situated between 
England and Scotland, at the 
mouth of the Tweed. V. XXIX. 2, 

Bevis. See Ascapart. 

BiU A battle-axe. I. VIII. 2. 

Blazed. Emblazoned; adorned with 
armorial emblems. VI. XXXVI. 
17. 

Blazon. (1) To ornament or em- 
blazon with a coat of arms. I. 
VIII. 11. (2) The banner or 
other cognizance of a noble fam- 
ily. V. XV. 19. 

Blondel. The famous and faithful 
minstrel of Bichard I. Intro. V. 
VI. 10. 

Bloody Heart. "A human heart is 
well known as a charge in the 
coat of the famous house of Doug- 
las, where it was placed to com- 
memorate the duty entrusted by 
Kobert Bruce to the ' good Sir 
James Douglas,' that he should 
bear with him the heart of his 
sovereign and friend to the Holy 



Land and bury it there." BoutelPs 
English Heraldry. VI. II. 10. 

Blythe. A river of Northumber- 
land. II. VIII. 9. 

Boldrewood. The New Forest, the 
royal park and hunting ground, 
set apart in Hampshire by Will- 
iam the Conqueror. Intro. I. 
XVIII. 7. 

Borough-moor. " The Borough or 
Common Moor of Edinburgh was 
of very great extent, reaching 
from the southern walls of the 
city to the Braid Hills," Sir Wal- 
ter Scott. IV. XXV. 6. 

Borthwick's Sisters Seven. Seven 
culverins (or small cannon), so 
named from him who cast them. 
IV. XXVII. 9. 

Bosworth Field. Situated in War- 
wickshire, England. Here the 
final battle of the Wars of the 
Hoses was fought in 1485. between 
the Enghsh armies under Richard 
III. and the forces of Henry 
Tudor, Earl of Bichmond. Rich- 
ard was slain and Bichmond as- 
cended the throne as Henry VII. 
I. V. 8. 

Bothan, Saint. A minor saint in the 
Scottish calendar. VI. XV. 17. 

Both well (Earl of). James Hep- 
burn, 1526-1576. Notorious in his- 
tory as first the favorite adviser, 
and afterwards the husband of 
Mary Stuart. The murder of 
Lord Darnley is generally im- 
puted to him. IV. XII. 19. 

Both well (Castle). An ''ancient 
seat of the Douglas family, in 
Lanarkshire, about eight miles 
from Glasgow. V. XIV. 15. 

Bower. (1) A chamber or private 
room; especially, a secret cham- 
ber or retreat. V. X. 28. (2) A 
hall or room of state. V. VII. 3. 
(3) Trees or verdure. Intro. IV. 
VII. 2. 



GLOSSARY 



33? 



Bowhill. A seat of the Duke of 
Buccleuch, on the Yarrow, in Et- 
trick forest. Intro. II. II. 22. 

Bowls. A game played with wooden 
balls on a level greensward. I. 
XXII. 9. 

Bowne. To make readj^; to pre- 
pare. IV. XXII. 33. 

Bowyer. An archer. II. XV. 11. 

Bratchet. A slow hound. Intro. 

II. I. 42. 

Brandenburg. An electorate of 
the German Empire, afterwards 
the kingdom of Prussia. Intro. 

III. III. 12. 

Brave. Excellent; showj-; finely 
displayed. I. X. 2. 

Bravely. Showily. VI. XXI. 12. 

Brawn. The flesh of the boar. 
Intro. VI. III. 7. 

Breviary. A book containing the 
daily prayers and service of the 
Roman Church. VI. III. 28. 

Bride, Saint, or St. Bridget. One of 
the patron saints of Ireland, and 
.the favorite saint of the House of 
Douglas, especially of the Earl of 
Angus. Her shrine was at Both- 
well Castle. VI. XIV. 27. 

Brigantine, or Brigandine. A 
coat of armor made of metal 
scales, which were usually sewed 
or quilted upon linen or other 
cloth. V. II. 23. 

Britomart. Intro. V. III. 27. See 
Note Intro. V. III. 1. 

Brook. (1) To restrain or control. 
I. X. 11. (2) To bear; to endure. 
III. XIV. 3. 

Broom. A plant characterized by 
straight, stiff branches, which are 
used for making brooms. IV. 
XXIV. 2. 

Bruce (Robert). Scotland's favorite 
king and hero. (1274-1329). VI. 
XX. 15. See Bannockbourne. 

Buckler. A small shield for the 
arm. III. III. 14. 



Bulwark. A rampart or fortifica- 
tion; anciently a bastion. VI. II. 
21. 

Burgher. A freeman of a town or 
borough. IV. XXXII. 12. 

Bush. The sign of an inn or tavern, 
appropriately an ivy bush, which 
was sacred to Bacchus, the god of 
wine and good cheer. III. II. 9. 

Buskins. Half-boots. V. VIII. 
19. 

Bute. An island off the west coast 
of Scotland. III. XX. 11. 

Buxom. Wholesome; heart-cheer- 
ing; care-free. Intro. IV. VII. 
20. 

Cairn. A pile of loose stones, such 
as crown the summit of many 
Scottish hills. They are supposed 
to be ancient sepulchral monu- 
ments. Intro. I. XIV. 12. 
Caledonia. The ancient Latin name 
for Scotland, still used poetically. 
Caledonian pride. The flower of 
the Scottish army. VI. XXXIII. 
I 19. 

I Caledonia's Queen. Edinburgh, 
i Intro. V. II. 5. 

; Cambria. The ancient Latin name 
I for Wales, still used poetically. 
I Intro. VI. VII. 3. 
j Camp. " A favorite dog of the 
I Poet's, a bull terrier of extraor- 
I dinary sagacity. He is introduced 
I into Raeburn'a portrait of Sir 
Walter Scott, now at Dalkeith 
Palace." Intro. IV. VI. 19. 
Canterbury. The metropolitan see 
of England. Here Augustine be- 
came the first archbishop over 
the first cathedral and built the 
first monastery erected in Eng- 
land. I. XXIV. 2. 
Cap of maintenance. The cap of 
state carried before the English 
monarchs at the ceremony of cor- 
onation. A symbol of investure 



338 



MARMION 



in offices of state or dignity; as, 
King-at-arms. IV. VII. 12. 
Career. A rapid course ; riding at 
full speed on horseback. III. 
XXIV. 3. 
Carpet knight. A knight who pre- 
fers luxury and safety to danger 
and hardships. I. V. 18. 
Case, well in. See Note 1. XXI. 

16. 
Casque. A defensive covering for 
the head and neck; a helmet. I. 
V. 13. 
Cast. (1) To plan; to design. IV. 
XVII. 20. (2) To compute; to 
reckon. IV. III. 3. 
Catherine. Catherine of Aragon, 
first of the unhappy wives of 
Henry VIII. VI. XXXVIII. 24. 
Caxton. or de Worde. William 
Caxton was the first person to in- 
troduce printing into England 
(1474). Died, 1492. Wynken de 
Worde was Caxton^s successor in 
England in the use of the press. 
IV. IV. 24. 
Cell. General word for a convent, 
its management and environs. II. 
IV. 9. 
Cessford. Robert Carr (or Kerr) 
of Cessford, Warden of the Middle 
Marches of Scotland. V. X. 5. 
Chad, Saint, or Ceadda. The de- 
voted Irish bishop, who, with St. 
Cuthbert, introduced Christianity 
into England in the sixth and sev- 
enth centuries. The Mercian see of 
Lichfield still looks to him as its 
founder. VI. XXXVI. 10. See 
Green's Short History of the Eng- 
lish Feople, chapter I. 
Chalice. The consecrated cup used 
in the eucharistic sacrament. 
Intro. VI. II. 10. 
Champion. In days of chivalry, a 
knight who engaged himself to de- 
fend the honor or rights of those 
weaker than himself. I. V. 19. 



See Chivalry in any good cyclo- 
psedia. 
Chapel Perilous. Intro. I. XV. 12. 

See Morgana. 
Chapelle. Chapel. III. XXIX. 3. 
Chaplet. A rosary. V. XVIII. 12. 
Character. Handwriting. V. 

XXIII. 15. 
Cheviot Hills. A range extending 
along the border line of England 
and Scotland. Flodden Field is 
the last point of the Cheviots. I. 
1.3. 
Chief. A term of heraldry used to 
designate the upper part of a 
shield. VI. II. 11. 
Church, the. As here used, the 

Church of Bome. II. XX. 19. 
Churl. A rustic laborer; a boorish 

fellow. III. XXVIII. 2. 

Cincture. A girdle. IV. XVI. 22. 

Cistertian. An order of monks 

and nuns founded in 1098. V. 

XXX. 34. See Bernardinje. 

Claymore. A large two-handled 

sword. Intro. VI. VII. 6. 
Clerk. A learned person. III. 

XIX. 1. 
Clip. To clasp or embrace. Intro. 

VI. V. 14. 
Cloister. Originally a covered walk. 
More generally a term denoting a 
place of religious seclusion; a con- 
vent, monastery or nunnery. II. 
III. 12. 
Close. The conclusion of a strain 

of music. II. XI. 5. 
Cloth-yard arrows. " This is no 
poetical exaggeration. In some of 
the counties of England distin- 
guished for archery, shafts of this 
extraordinary length were actu- 
ally used. Thus, at the battle of 
Blackheath, between the troops 
of Henry VII. and the Cornish in- 
surgents in 1496, the Bridge of 
Dartf ord was defended by a picked 
band of archers from the rebel 



GLOSSARY 



339 



army, * whose arrows,' says 
Holinshed, 'were in length a full 
cloth yard/ " Sir Walter Scott. Y. 
1.18. 

Cochran. A favorite of James III. 
V. XV. 30. 

Cockle-shell. The badge of a holy 
pilgrim. I. XXIII. 14. 

Coeur-de-Iiion. Richard I. of Eng- 
land. III. XXII. 22. 

Cognizance. A heraldic blazon or 
device; a coat of arms. VI. II. 
12. 

Columbella. The "faire Colum- 
beir' of Spenser's Faerie Queene, 
to whom the devoted service of 
the Squire of Dames was ren- 
dered. Intro. V. III. 21. See 
Spenser's Faerie Queene, Bk. III. 
Canto VII. 

Colwulf, or Ceolwhlf. "King of 
Northumberland, flourished in 
the eighth century. He abdicated 
the throne in 738 and retired to 
Holy Island, where he died in the 
odor of sanctity." Sir Walter 
ScoU, II. XVII. 7. 

Combust. Said of planets when 
their light is obscured by near- 
ness to the sun. III. XX. 26. 

Coquet-isle. A small island off the 
coast of Northumberland. II. 
VIII. 13. 

Corslet. Armor for the body; the 
breastplate and back piece taken 
together. VI. V. 8. 

Cottiswold. Cotswold Hills, in 
Gloucestershire. I. XII. 8. 

Couch. To lower a spear or lance 
to the position of attack. III. 
XXII. 35. 

Couchant, Lying down with the 
head raised, said of a lion or other 
beast. VI. XXXVI. 13. 
Coventry. A city of England, in 
Warwickshire. See Note V. 
XXXI. 10. 
Cresset. An open lamp or cup filled 



with combustible material and 
sometimes used as a torch. II. 
XVIII. 17. 

Crest. (1) The plume or other or- 
nament of a helmet; also the 
helmet itself. I. VI. 5. (2) To 
crown; to wreathe; to surmount. 
III. XXII. 30. 

Crichtoun Castle. "A large ruin- 
ous castle on the banks of the 
Tyne, about ten miles from Edin- 
burgh." Sir Walter Scott, IV. 
X. 2. 

Culverin. An ancient form of can- 
non. IV. XXVII. 10. 

Cunninghame. A town on the 
west coast of Scotland. III. XX. 

n. 

Curvett. A leaping movement or 
exercise of peculiar grace in which 
skilled riders were accustomed to 
train their horses. V. II. 15. 

Cuthbert, Saint. A noted Irish 
monk who taught the doctrines of 
Christianity in England before the 
coming of Augustine. He was 
prior of Melrose about 664 A.D. 
"He died A.D. 688. in a hermitage 
upon the Fame Islands." Sir Wal- 
ter Scott. See Note II. XIV. 1. 
Saint Cnthbert's Holy Isle. The 
island of Lindisfarne, where the 
seat of the see of Durham was 
located, of which Cuthbert was 
the sixth bishop. II. 1. 10. 



Dacre, liord. Commander of the 
reserves at the battle of Flodden. 
VI. XXIV. 9. 

Darkling. (1) In the dark; grop- 
ing. III. XXVIII. 15. (2) Frown- 
ing. Intro. V. I. 23. 

Deas. A dais or raised platform. 
The seat of honor at a banqueto 
I. XIII. 5. 

Demi- volte. A half -vault; one of 
the artificial motions of a horse is 



340 



MARMION 



which he raises his fore-legs ia 
» peculiar manner. lY. XXX. 
33. 

Denny (Sir Anthony). An English 
courtier and favorite of Henry 
VIII. VI. XXXVIII. 22. 

Despiteously. Spitefully; mali- 
ciously. V. XXI. 14. 

Devon. A county in Southern Eng- 
land, noted for its richness of soil 
and valuable dairy products. 
Intro. III. VI. 40. 

Dight. Prepared; made ready. I. 
VI. 11. 

Dome. Poetically, a building or 
house, especially a church or a 
monastery. In this case, the con- 
vent at Whitby. V. XXXII. 9. 

Donjon. The chief or strongest 
tower of a fortified castle; the 
keep. I. II. 5. 

Doublet. A clcse-fitting garment 
for men, covering the body from 
the neck to a little below the waist. 
I. XV. 23. 

Douglas. The name of a noble 
Scottish family; the Earls of An- 
gus. V. XIV. 1. 

Down. A tract of poor hilly land, 
usually near the sea, and fre- 
quently used for pasturing sheep. 
III. XXII. 30. 

Drench. To cause or to give to 
drink. V. XXII. 6. 

Dryhope. "Near the lower extrem- 
ity of St. Mary's Lake, which 
forms the reservoir from which 
the Yarrow takes its source, are 
the ruins of Dryhope tower, the 
birthplace of Mary Scott, daughter 
of Philip Scott of Dryhope, and 
famous by the traditional name 
of the Flower of Yarrow. She was 
married to Walter Scott of Hard- 
en, no less renowned for his dep- 
redations, than his bride for her 
beauty." Sir Walter 8coU. Intro. 
II. VI. 14. 



Dub. To confer knighthood upon. 
VI. XII. 11. 

Dunbar. A Scottish seaport at the 
mouth of the Firth of Forth. I. 
XIX. 4. 

Dun-Edin. Edinburgh. Anciently 
Edwin's borough. V. XVIII. 5. 

Dun-Edin's Cross. "The Cross of 
Edinburgh was an ancient and 
curious structure. The lower part 
was an octagonal tower, sixteen 
feet in diameter, and about fifteen 
feet high. At each angle there 
was a pillar, and between them an 
arch of the Grecian shape. Above 
these was a projecting battle- 
ment, with a turret at each corner 
and medallions, of rude but curi- 
ous workmanship, between them. 
Above this rose the proper cross, 
a column of one stone, upwards of 
twenty feet high, surmounted by 
a unicorn." Sir Walter Scott. V. 
XXV. 1. 

Dunfermline. A Scottish town 
about sixteen miles northwest of 
Edinburgh. Dunfermline nave. 
The abbey of Dunfermline 
founded by Malcolm and his 
queen in the eleventh century. 
Bruce was buried here. III. 
XXV. 9. 

Durham's Crothic shade. Durham 
cathedral, situated on the Wear 
river in northern England. It is 
one of the best examples of the 
Romanesque style of architecture 
in England, and is the place of in- 
terment of the Venerable Bede 
and the final resting place of St. 
Cuthbert. II. XIV. 27. 

Edelfled. " A Saxon princess, 
daughter of King Oawy, who, in 
gratitude to Heaven for the great 
victory which he won in 655 against 
Penda, the Pagan King of Mercia, 
dedicated Edelfieda, thea but a 



GLOSSARY 



341 



year old, to the service of God, in 
the monastery of Whitby, of 
which St. Hilda was then Abbess. 
She afterwards adorned the place 
of her education with great mag- 
nificence." Sir Walter Scott. II. 
XIII. 13. 

Eke. Also; likewise. III. XIX. 4. 

Elf. Used in a derogatory sense to 
indicate one slow of understand- 
ing or dull in imagination. VI. 
XXXVIII. 1. 

Embr azure. A window or other 
aperture in a wall or parapet; a 
loophole. VI. XI. 4. 

Empress of the North. Edin- 
burgh. IV. XXXII. 2. 

Emprize. Enterprise; undertak- 
ing. Intro. I. VII. 5. 

Enow. Enough. I. XIX. 2. 

Errant-knight. In times of chiv- 
alry, a wandering or adventurous 
knight. IV. IV. 8. 

Erst. Formerly. Intro. II. V. 8. 

Eske river, A river of Southern 
Scotland, tributary to Solway 
Firth. V.XII.8. 

Ettrick woods. Extensive forests 
on the bank of the Yarrow river, 
in Selkirkshire. The ancient do- 
main of the clan of Scott. VI. 
XXXVI. 21. 

Exclaim on. To censure; to rail at. 
V. XXX. 27. 

Fair. (1) Frankly; courteously. I. 
XV. 6. (2) A fair lady. V. 
XXVII. 5. 

Falconer. One who trains or hunts 
with a falcon. V. XXII. 26. 

Falchion. A broad-bladed, slightly 
curved, short sword. V. VI. 14. 

Fane. A church or other sanctu- 
ary. VI. III. 10. 

Fay. Faith. I. XXII. 23. 

Featly. Dexterously; skilfully. VI. 
VIII. 29. 

FeU. (1) Deadly; cruel. III. 



XXIII. 28. (2) A barren or rocky 
hil 1 or upland. II. XXXIII. 21. 

Fence. (1) A defence or guard. 
VI. V. 5. (2) To defend or guard. 
Intro. II. I. 6. 

Fever' d. Marked by changes of 
fortune ; varied. Intro. IV. I. 22. 

Field. The surface of a shield, " so 
called,'' says Dryden. " because it 
contains those achievements an- 
ciently acquired on the field of 
battle." VI. II. 10. 

Fillan, Saint, *'St. Fillan was a 
Scottish saint of some reputation. 
There are in Perthshire several 
wells and springs dedicated to St. 
Fillan, which are still places of 
pilgrimage and offerings, even 
among the Protestants. They are 
held powerful in cases of mad- 
ness, and in some of very late oc- 
currence, lunatics have been left 
all night bound to the holy stone, 
in confidence that the saint would 
come and unloose them before 
morning." Sir Walter Scott. I. 
XXIX. 12. 

Fleur-de-lis. The beautiful her- 
aldic device so long identified with 
the history of France, derived, it 
would seem, from the flower of a 
lily resembling the iris. It was 
first adopted by Louis VII. in 
1179. Edward III. of England 
(1340-1405) first quartered the an- 
cient arms of France with the 
Lions of England. IV. VII. 20. 

Flodden Field. The last point of 
the Cheviot hills in Northumber- 
land. Here James IV. of Scot- 
land, with an army of more than 
30,000 men, was defeated with 
great disaster by the English 
forces under the Earl of Surrey, 
Sept. 9, 1573. It is the scene of the 
culminating events of the story of 
Marmion. See Note VI. XXIII- 
XXXV. 



342 



MARMION 



Flourish. A fantastical musical 
passage, used as a call or an- 
nouncement. IV. V. 5. 

Flower of Yarrow. Intro. II. VI. 
15. See Dryhope. 

Fond. Foolish; weak. V. XXXI. 31. 

Fontarabia. A fortified town of 
Northern Spain. VI. XXXIII. 8. 

Fontenaye. I. XI. 7. See Marmion. 

Fontevraud. An ancient abbey in 
the town of Fontevrault, France. 
II. XX. 18. 

Forbes. "Sir William Forbes of 
Pitsligo, Baronet; unequalled, 
perhaps, in the degree of individ- 
ual affection entertained for him 
by his friends, as well as the gen- 
eral respect and esteem of Scot- 
land at large.'* Sir Walter Scott. 
Intro. IV. V. 27. 

Fordun, (John of). A Scottish 
chronicler who died about 1385. 
Intro. VI. IX. 9. 

Fosse. A broad ditch surrounding 
a fortified castle; a moat. V. 
XXXIII. 10. 

Fox (Rt. Hon. Charles James). 
1749-1806. See Note to Intro. I. 
X. 

Franchemont. See Note to Intro. 
VI. VIII. 2. 

Friar Rush. Will o* the Wisp; 
Jack o' Lantern. IV. I. 31. 

Gadite wave. See note to Intro. I. 
VI. 4. 

Galliard. A lively dance. V. XII. 
32. 

Gammon. A ham salted and 
smoked. III. III. 7. 

'Gan. Began. VI. XXIX. 2. 

Ganore. Queen Guinevere, wife of 
King Arthur. Intro. I. XV. 15. 
See Tennyson's Idyls of the King, 
and Lanier's The Boys* King Ar- 
thur. 

Gawain (Douglas). " The well 
known Gawain Douglas, bishop of 



Dunkeld, son of Archibald Bell- 
the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was the 
author of a Scottish metrical ver- 
sion of the ^neid, and of many 
other poetical pieces of great 
merit. He had not at this period 
attained the mitre." Sir Walter 
Scott. VI. XII. 15. 

Genius. A guardian spirit. Intro. 
I. XVII. 8. 

Gentles. Persons of noble lineage; 
well-born. III. XXV. 20. 

George, Saint. The patron saint of 
England. IV. XXI. 22. Saint 
George's banner. The English 
flag. I. II. 1. 

Ghast. Ghastly. IV. XXI. 20. 

Giant's Grave. Intro. II. VIII. 
29. See Loch-Skbne. 

GifTord. A Scottish village about 
four miles from Haddington. III. 
I. 22. 

Giles (St.). A famous cathedral of 
Edinburgh. V. XX. 10. 

Giust. Joust; a mock combat be- 
tween knights in the lists. I. 
XIV. 7. 

Glee. Music; minstrelsy. I. IV. 5. 

Glendowerdy. Magic art prac» 
ticed by Glendower. Intro. VI. 
VII. 4. 

Goblin-Hall. "A vaulted hall under 
the ancient castle of GiflFord or 
Yester, the construction of which 
has, from a very remote period, 
been ascribed to magic." Sir Wat- 
ter Scott. III. XIX. 10. 

Gorget. Defensive armor for the 
neck. V. II. 23. 

Gorse. A thorny evergreen shrub 
common in England and Scotland. 
Also called furze or whin. III. I. 
13. 

Gothic. Relating to the Goths, an 
ancient Teutonic race of northern 
Europe. Intro. II. II. 16. In 
architecture, that style which is 
characterized by the pointed 



GLOSSARY 



343 



arches, slender columns and elab- 
orate carving. Intro. I. XIII. 17. 

Gothic harp. Harp of the North. 
Intro. I. XII. 9. 

Graeme. " The ancient and power- 
ful family of Graham, which, for 
metrical reasons, is here spelled 
after the Scottish pronunciation." 
Sir Walter Scott. V. XII. 43. 

Gramercy. (Fr. grand-merci.) 
Many thanks. I. XXV. 1. 

Gripple. Greedy; grasping. Intro. 
TI. IX. 17. 

Gueldres, or Guelders. A province 
of the Netherlands. V. XXI. 23. 

Guide. Frequently used in the sense 
of to escort, to conduct, rather than 
with the usual meaning of show- 
ing the way. VI. X. 2. 

Gules. Red. IV. VI. 10. 

Haco. King of Norway in the first 
half of the 17th century. III. 
XX. 7. 

Hafnia. Copenhagen. Intro. I. VII.4. 

Haghut, or Hackbut. A heavy 
musket. V. III. 8. 

Halbert. A long-handled weapon, 
combining the office of both spear 
and battle-axe. I. VIII. 2. 

Hall. (1) In feudal times, the chief 
room of a castle or manor house. 
I. XXII. 12. (2) *'A hall! a halir 
a cry used in clearing the way for 
a dance or pageant. V. XVII. 6. 

Hall. An English chronicler of the 
16th century. His work contains 
an account of the battle of 
Flodden. VI. XXXVIII. 9. 

Hanger. A short, curved sword. 
Intro. VI. VIII. 12. 

Hap what hap. Let happen what 
may. VI. XXI. 6. 

Harper. See Bard or Minstrel. 
I. XIII. 9; a]so,II. VII. 3. 

Harquebuss or Harquebuse. A 
rude firearm of the 15th century. 
Intro. II. I. 48. 



Harry Hotspur. Sir Henry 
Percy, slain in the battle of 
Shrewsbury, 1403. VI. IX. 8. 

Hebudes. The Hebrides Islands. 

IV. XXVI. 1. 

Henry meek. "Henry VI., with 
his queen, his heir, and the chiefs 
of his family, fled to (Edinburgh) 
Scotland after the fatal battle of 
Towton." Sir Walter Scott. Intro. 

V. IV. 30. 

Hepburn, Earl Adam. Second 
Earl of Bothwell and grandfather 
of James, Earl of Bothwell, too 
well known in the history of Mary 
Stuart. IV. XII. 13. 

Herald. In feudal days, an im- 
portant officer, whose duty was to 
carry messages and to proclaim or 
announce events of war, combat, 
etc. V. XV.14. 

Hilda, Saint. The Abbess Hilda, 
founder and patron saint of Whit- 
by Abbey. II. III. 16. 

Hind. (1) The female of the red 
deer. II. XXXIII. 24. (2) A peas- 
ant or rustic laborer. Intro. III. 
VII. 29. 

Hold. A stronghold; a castle. II. 
1.5. 

Hollinshed. An English chron- 
icler of the 16th century. VI. 
XXXVIII. 9. 

Holt. A wooded hill. Intro. II. 
II. 10. 

Holy Isle. See Lindisfarnbj. 
II. 1. 10. 

Holy-Rood. A royal palace of Scot- 
land, located at Edinburgh. V. 
XI. 5. 

Home (Earl of). VI. XXVI. 26. 
See Note VI. XXVI-XXVII. 

Horse-courser. An enthusiastic 
lover of good horses; a horse- 
racer. VI. XVI. 32. 

Hosen. Old plural of hose. Close 
fitting breeches. I. VIII. 14. 

Howard, Edmund. The Knight 



344 



MARMION 



Marshal of the English army 
and son of the Earl of Surrey. 
VI. XXVI. 20. 
Hugh the Heron (Sir). See Note 

I. XIII. 2. 

Huntly. VI. XXVI. 26. See Note 
VI. XXVI, XXVII. 

Ida. King of Deira, one of the an- 
cient divisions of Northumbria. 

II. VIII. 22. 

lol. " The lol of the heathen Dane 
(a word still applied to Christmas 
in Scotland) was solemnized with 
great festivity." Sir Walter Scott. 
Intro. VI. I. 7. 

Isis. The upper part of the main 
stream of the Thames. The name, 
" a quasi-classical form of Ouse," 
is fittingly associated with that of 
classic Oxford, which is situated 
upon its banks. Intro. II. IX. 1. 

Jack. A coat of defense, usually 
made of leather quilted with iron. 
V. III. 2. 

Jacques. " The melancholy 
Jacques" of Shakspere's As 
You Like It. Intro. IV. I. 4. 

James, Royal. James (Stuart) 
IV. of Scotland. I. XVIII. 1. 

Jerkin. A short coat or jacket. I. 
VIII. 14. 

Keep. The strongest and securest 
part of a castle; the donjon. 1. 1. 
4. 

Kettle-drum. A kettle-shaped in- 
strument having a parchment 
head like a drum. IV. XXXI. 3. 

Klng-at-arms. The chief heraldic 
oflScer of a noble house. IV. VI. 
11. 

Kim. The Scottish harvest-home. 
Intro. IV. IV. 4. 

Kirtle. A kind of petticoat or kilt 



used as a part of the dress of either 
sex. Kirtle sheen. Silk petticoat. 

V. IV. 34. Also Intro. VI. II. 11, 
Knave. Any male servant or 

menial. III. XXVIII. 10. 
Knight-errant. See E b b a n t 

Knight. VI. XX. 11. 
Knosp. A sculptured bud or knob, 

the ornamental termination of a 

pinnacle. Intro. V. IV. 18. 
Kyle. A town on the east coast of 

Scotland. III. XX. 11. 

Lammermoor. A range of hills 
forming the boundary of East 
Lothian and Berwickshire, Scot* 
land. III. I. 19. 

Lance, To break a. To champion, 
to take up arms for. V. X. 13. 

Largesse. A present or gift be- 
stowed. The exclamation with 
which dependents acknowledged 
the liberality of a knight. I. XI. 
13. 

Largs. A seaport town of Scot- 
land about 22 miles from Glasgow. 
Here, in 1623, Alexander III. de- 
feated Haco, King of Norway, in 
a destructive battle. III. XXIV. 
11. 

Larum. An alarming or warning 
of danger; a summons to arms. 
IV. XXXII. 11. 

Latian. Belonging or relating to 
Latium, a country of ancient 
Italy, hence classic. Intro. VI, 

VI. 14. 

Lauder. A river of Berwickshire, 
Scotland. Lauder's dreary flat. 
Lauderdale. V. XIV. 8. 

Laverock. The lark. Intro. IV. 
VI. 22. 

Lennel's convent. A Cistercian 
monastery which was situated 
very near the Flodden Field. VI. 
XVIII. 3. 

Levin. Lightning. Intro. I. VI. 5. 

Leyden. " John Leyden, M.D.,who 



GLOSSARY 



345 



had been of great service to Sir 
Walter Scott in the preparation of 
the Border Minstrelsy, sailed for 
India in April, 1803, and died at 
Java in August, 1811, before com- 
pleting his 36th year/' Intro. VI. 

VI. 21. 

Lichfield's lofty pile. The beau- 
tiful cathedral of Lichfield, which 
dates from the end of the twelfth 
and the beginning of the thir- 
teenth centuries. VI. XXXVI. 
3. 

lilddisdale. The valley of the Lid- 
del river in Dumfrieshire. V. 
XIV. 13. 

Liege. One having authority or 
claim to allegiance. III. XXI. 
15. Liegeman. The subject of a 
sovereign lord. V. XIII. 21. 

Limbo. (Timbus, border). A sort 
of neutral land on the con- 
fines of Paradise for those who 
are not good enough for heaven, 
nor bad enough for hell. Accord- 
ing to Dante, Limbo is between 
hell and that borderland where 
dwell *' the praiseless and the 
nameless dead." Intro. VI. VI. 
17. 

Limner. A portrait painter. IV. 
XVI. 31. 

Llndesay, Sir David. A Scot- 
tish poet of the 16th century. He 
held the important oflSce of King- 
at-arms under James IV., unless, 
as Scott himself doubtfully sug- 
gests, his introduction as such in 
Marmion be an anachronism. IV. 

VII. 30. 

Lindlsfarne. An island off the 
coast of Northumberland. At low 
tide it becomes a peninsula, as in- 
dicated in the poem. It is called 
Soly Isle from the sanctity of its 
ancient monastery, and from its 
having been the Episcopal seat of 
the see of Durham during the 



early agres of British Christianity. 
II. IV. 12. See St. Cuthbert. 

Line. (1) A trench or rampart for 
defense. Intro. V. II. 8. (2) A 
general term for poetry. VI. V. 
24. 

Linlithgow, or Lithgow. One of 
the most imposing and beautiful 
of the royal palaces of Scotland. 
It is situated on the Firth of 
Forth, not far from Edinburgh. 
In this castle Mary Queen of Scots 
was born. IV. XV. 4. 

Linn. A waterfall. Intro. 1. 1. 3. 

Linstock. A pointed staff, with a 
notch or fork, to hold a lighted 
match for firing cannon. I. IX. 8. 

List. To desire; to be disposed 
to do a thing; to choose. I. 
VIII. 6. 

Lists, or Listed field. The space 
enclosed for a combat at arms or 
a tournament. I. XII. 8; also^I. 
XII. 13. 

Livings. Estates or income. V. 
XXII. 11. 

Livy. The greatest of Koman his- 
torians. He was also the author 
of numerous philosophical dia- 
logues. Intro. VI. VI. 27. 

Lochaber. A wild and mountain- 
ous district of Scotland, County of 
Inverness, in the vicinity of Lochs 
Linnhe, Leven, and Eil. Intro. 
III. VI. 39. 

Lochinvar. A lake of Scotland in 
Kirkcudbright. It is about three 
miles in circumference. The re- 
mains of a castle of the Gordons, 
Knights of Lochinvar, are on an 
island in this lake. V. XII. 1. 

Loch-Skene. "A mountain lake 
of considerable size, at the head of 
the Mofifat-water. The character 
of the scenery is uncommonly 
savage; and the earn, or Scottish 
eagle, has, for many ages, built its 
nest yearly upon an islet in the 



346 



MARMION 



lake. Loch-Skene discharges itself 
into a brook, which, after a short 
and precipitate course, falls from a 
cataract of immense height and 
gloomy grandeur, called from its 
appearance the 'Gray Mare's 
Tail.'' The 'GiarU's Grave,' atter- 
wards mentioned, is a sort of 
trench, which bears that name, a 
little way from the foot of the cat- 
aract." Sir Walter ScoU. Intro. II. 
VIII. 7 to end, 

liocutns Bos. The ox speaks. Intro. 
TI. VI. 28. 

liOdon. Lothian, a division of Scot- 
land, comprising the counties of 
Haddington, Edinburgh, and Lin- 
lithgow, respectively called East, 
Middle, and West Lothian. II. 
XV. 5. 

liordling. One of noble birth. I. 
XII. 5. 

liOretto. A city of eastern Italy, 
noted for its magnificent sanctu- 
ary. I. XXVIL14. 

liurch. To lurk; to shift or dodge. 
Intro. II. I. 26. 

Mace. A heavy spiked club; also, 
an emblem of authority. V. II. 
27. 

Mad Tom. The common name 
for an idiot; assumed by Edgar 
in KuigLear. Intro. IV. VII. 24. 

Magi. Wise men of the East; sages 
or magicians. III. XX. 20. 

Maida. A town of Southern Italy. 
The scene of the victory of the 
English over the French, in the 
battle which was fought July 6, 
1806 Intro. VI. VII. 7. 

Make. To do. VI. V. 1. 

Malbecco. The jealous and miserly 
husband of the beautiful Hellen- 
ore, of whom an account is given 
in Spenser's Faerie Qiieene. Book 
III. Canto IX. Intro. V. III. 19. 

Malcolm. The name of several of 



the ancient kings of Scotland, m. 

XXII. 27. 

Malison. A curse or invective. V. 
XXV. 9. 

Malvoisie. Malmsey wine, a sweet 
wine made in Crete; originally 
from Malvasia in the Merea. I. 
IV. 1. 

Manor. So much land as a feudal 
lord or noble kept in his own 
hands for the use and subsistence 
of his family; a family mansion 
or domain. VI. XIII. 21. 

Mar g a ret, queen. Margaret 
Tudor, daughter of Henry VII. of 
England and wife of James IV. of 
Scotland. I. XVII. 10. 

Marie. " Marie of France, who 
translated the Lays of Brittany 
into French. She resided at the 
court of Henry III. of England, to 
whom she dedicated her book." 
Sir Walter Scott. Intro. V. VI. 10. 

Mark. An old weight and coin. I. 
XI. II. 

Marmion. " The principal charac- 
ter of the present romance is en- 
tirely a fictitious personage. In 
earlier times, indeed, the family 
of Marmion, Lords of Fontenay, 
in Normandy, were highly distin- 
guished. Bobert de Marmion, 

• Lord of Fontenay, a distin- 
guished follower of the Conquer- 
or, obtained a grant of the castle 
and town of Tamworth, and also 
of the manor of Scrivelby in Lin- 
colnshire. One or both of these 
noble possessions was held by the 
honorable service of being the 
Boyal Champion, as the ancestors 
of Marmion had formerly been 
to the Dukes of Normandy. But 
after the castle and demesne of 
Tamworth had passed through 
four successive barons from 
Bobert, the family became ex- 
tinct in the person of Philip de 



GLOSSARY 



347 



MarmioD, who died in 20th Ed- 
ward I. without issue male. . . . 
I have not, therefore, created a 
new family, but only revived the 
titles of an old one in an imaginary 
personage." Sir Walter Scott. I. 
IV. 9. 

Massy More. "The castle of Crich- 
ton has a dungeon vault, called 
the Massy More. The epithet, 
which is not uncommonly applied 
to the prisons of other old castles 
in Scotland, is of Saracenic ori- 
gin." Sir Walter Scott. IT. XI. 
24. 

Master, the. The title given in 
Scotland to the eldest son or heir 
to the estate. VI. XVI. 29. 

Maudlin. A contraction of Magda- 
len. V. IV. 33. 

Mead. A fermented beverage made 
of water and honey with malt or 
yeast. Intro. VI. 1. 7. 

Measnre. A dance. V. XII. 30. 

Melrose. One of the most mag- 
nificent of Scottish monasteries. 
Its ruins still stand on the Tweed 
river, near Scott's house, Abbots- 
ford. II. XIV. 10. 

Merse. A district of Berwickshire. 
III. 1. 6. 

Milan steel. Milan, a town of 
northern Italy, was famous in the 
Middle Ages for the superior qual- 
ity of the armor made there. I. 
VI. 2. 

Mimosa. The sensitive plant. 
Intro. IV. VII. 14. 

Minion. A favorite; a servile de- 
pendent. V. XIV. 7. 

Minister. Instrument; agent. V. 
XXXI. 20. 

Minstrel. A bard; a singer and 
harper. Intro. III. IX. 13. 

Moffatdale. See Loch - Skene. 
Intro. II. VIII. 31. 

Montserrat. A mountain in north- 
ern Spain, whose peculiar shape 



superstition ascribes to nature's 
convulsions at the hour of the 
crucifixion. I. XXIII. 15. 

More. Sir Thomas More, Lord 
Chancellor in the reign of Henry 
VIII. ; author of Utopia; beheaded 
for denying the Act of Suprem- 
acy. VI. XXXVIII. 22. 

Morgana, or Morgaine (sea- 
woman). In Celtic legend and 
Arthurian romance, a fairy, sister 
of King Arthur. Because Lance- 
let refused her love, she first 
lured him into her castle and af- 
terward erected the "Chapel Peril- 
ous" in which the knight met and 
successfully withstood many dan- 
gers and enticements. In Italian 
romance Morgana is known as 
Fata Morgana. Intro. I. XV. U. 
(See Lanier's T?ie Boys' Exng 
Arthur, Book II. Chap. III.) 

Morrice-pike. A Moorish pike. I. 
X. 1. 

Moss. A marsh. V. IV. 15. 

Mullet. A five-pointed star repre- 
senting the rowel of a spur, used 
in heraldry to designate the third 
son. VI. II. 11. 

Mumming. Masking. Intro. VI. 
III. 25. 

Nave. The middle or body of a 
church. III. XXV. 9. 

Nelson. Admiral Nelson, killed in 
the battle of Trafalgar, 1805. 
Intro. I. V. 14. 

Newark (castle). A massive stone 
tower, built by James II. upon 
the banks of the Yarrow. Intro. 
II. I. 32. 

Noll Bluff. A character in one of 
Congreve's plays. Intro. VI. VI. 9. 

Norham castle. A baronial strong- 
hold situated in northern Eng- 
land, on the southern bank of the 
Tweed. 1. 1. 1. 

Northumbria. Northumberland. 



348 



MARMION 



Originally, the land north of the 
Humber river in England. 
Northumhrlan seas. The North 
Sea. II. I. 7. 

Norweyan. Of Norway; Norwegi- 
an. III. XX. 8. 

Norwich. A town of Norfolk, 
England. I. XXIV. 1. 



Oaten reed. A shepherd's pipe 
made of a wheat or oat straw. 
Intro. IT. IV. 7. 

Oheron. King of the Fairies. (See 
Shakspere's Midsummer Night's 
Dream.) Intro. II. II. 36. 

Odin. (Northern Myth.) The su- 
preme deity of the ancient Scan- 
dinavians. In his honor the 
wildest festivities were cele- 
brated. Intro. VI. I. 23. 

Olivier, or Oliver. A favorite pal- 
adin of Charlemagne. The friendly 
emulation between Oliver and 
Boland (another paladin, and the 
supposed nephew of Charle- 
magne) gave rise to the proverb 
"A Roland for an Oliver." VI. 
XXXIII. 10. 

Oriana. In the romance of Ama- 
dis de Gaul, a daughter of 
Lisuarte, a legendary king of 
England. She is the fair and 
faithful one, beloved by Amadis, 
son of the French king Perion. 
In a set of madrigals celebrating 
the beauty and virtue of Eliza- 
beth at 68, the name Oriana was 
given to her in flattery. Intro. I. 

VIII. 13. 

Otterburne. Otterburn, a township 
of England, County of Northum- 
berland, 20 miles from Hexham. 
About half a mile from the village 
is an obelisk marking the spot 
where Earl Douglas fell in the 
battle of Chevy Chase, 1388. VI. 

IX. 7. 



Pageant. A show or spectacle; any 
beautiful sight or display. V. 
XXVI. 37. 

Paladin. Specifically, the name 
applied in old romance to the 
knights of Charlemagne. The 
term is comprehensively used for 
lords or knights in general. VI. 
XXXIII. 11. 

Pale. Inclosure. VI. III. 14. 

Palfrey. A saddle-horse for the 
road or for state occasions, as dis- 
tinguished from a war horse, I. 

VIII. 24. 

Palinure. Palinurus, in Greek 
classical legend, the pilot of 
^neas. He perished on the west- 
ern coast of Italy. Intro. I. 

IX. 3. 

Palisade. A fence made of sharp 
stakes set closely together for de- 
fensive purposes. V. I. 3. 

Palmer. "A Palmar, opposed to a 
JPilgrim, was one who made it his 
sole business to visit different holy 
shrines; travelling incessantly, 
and subsisting by charity: where- 
as the Pilgrim retired to his usual 
home and occupations, when he 
had paid his devotions at the par- 
ticular spot which was the object 
of his pilgrimage." Sir Walter 
Scott. I. XXVII. 6. 

Paly. Pale; light-colored. Intro. 
V. III. 13. 

Pandonr. A favorite dog of the 
poet's. Intro. IV. VI. 19. 

Panoply. A suit of armor. Intro. 
V. IV. 4. 

Pardoner. A priest who went 
about selling indulgences (absolu- 
tion of sin) granted by the Pope. 
(See Introduction to Chaucer's 
Canterbury Tales ) I. XX. J 5. 

Paridel. A knight of story, whose 
prototype is Paris. He makes 
love to Hellenore, wife of Mal- 
becco. Intro. V. III. 24. Bee 



GLOSSARY 



349 



Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book III. 
Canto IX. 

Part. Depart. V. XXVI. 37. 

Partenopex (de Blois). The hero 
of a poem by W. S. Ross, pub- 
lished in 1808. Intro. I. XVIII. 
16. 

Passing. Exceeding; surpassing. 

V. XXII. 5. 

Pasties of the doe. Venison pies. 
I. IV. 2. 

Patter. Mutter; mumble. The 
word is doubtless a corruption 
from rater Noster, " Our Father." 

VI. XXVII. 26. 

Pen. A hilltop or summit. Intro. 

IV. II. 11. 
Pennon. A small flag or streamer. 

IV. XXVIII. 6. 

Pensil, or pencil. A narrow flag 
or streamer. IV. XXVIII. 6. 

Pentacle. "A piece of fine linen 
folded with five corners. . . . 
This the magician extends toward 
the spirits which he invokes when 
they are rebelUous." Sir Walter 
Scott, III. XX. 22. 

Plctish. Pertaining to the Picts, 
ancient inhabitants of Scotland. 
III. XXIII. 5. 

Pile. A large building or mass of 
buildings. V. XI. 1. 

Piled. Having a heavy pile or nap. 

V. VIII. 10. 

Pilgrim. See Palmer. I. XX. 16. 
Pipe. A large wine-cask. I. IV. 1. 
Pipes. Bagpipes. V. V. 34. 
Pitch. Exalted height; elevation 

(of mind). A term taken from 

falconry. VI. XIV. 12. 
Pitscottie. Robert Lindesay of 

Pitscottie, author of Chronicles of 

Scotland; born 1500. Intro. VI. 

IX. 2. 
Pitt. William Pitt the younger. 

Died, 1806. Intro. I. V. 16. 
Plaid. A tartan shawl worn by 

both sexes in Scotland. Intro. 



VI. III. 19. To see what use Sir 
Walter Scott himself made of the 
shepherd's plaid, read Dr. Brown's 
Marjorie Fleming, page 54. 

Plain. Complain; lament. VI. 
XIII. J 3. 

Plate. Armor composed of broad 
pieces or plates of metal. V. II. 6. 

Plump of spears. A body of armed 
men. Plump. "This word prop- 
erly applies to a flight of water- 
fowl; but is applied, by analogy, 
to a body of horse." Sir Walter 
Scott. I. III. 3. 

Point of war. Warlike note. IV. 

V. 6. 

Porch. A recess or niche. II. 

XXIII. 12. 
Portcullis. An iron gate suspended 

over the entrance to a castle or 

fortress, arranged for defensive 

purposes, to be raised or lowered 

at will. VI. XIV. 29. 
Post and pair. An old game of 

cards. Intro. VI. II. 22. 
Postern door. A back door or 

gate; a secret passage. VI. 

VIII. 8. 
Practise. Plot; use stratagem or 

artifice. III. XV. 8. 
Prate. Trifling or unmeaning talk. 

VI. XXI. 16. 

Prick. Ride rapidly. I. XIX. 3. 

Pricker. A light armed horseman. 
V. XVII. 16. 

Prime. Early morning. In the 
Roman church, 6 o'clock, the first 
canonical hour. IV. XXXI. 10. 

Ptarmigan. A species of grouse. 
III. I. 17. 

Pursuivant. A herald, or one at- 
tending on a herald. I. XXI. 4. 

Qnaigh. A wooden drinking cup, 
composed of staves hooped to- 
gether. III. XXVI. 1. 

Quarry. Game; the object of the 
chase. Intro. II. I. 45. 



350 



MAEMION 



Quarter'd. A term used to denote 
the division of a shield by horizon- 
tal and vertical lines, in order to 
introduce two or more coats of 
arms joined in the emblazonment 
by the union of noble houses 
through intermarriage, IT. XI. 8. 

Queen of the Xorth. Edinburgh. 
Intro. T. IV. 7. 

Back. Thin, flying, broken clouds. 

Intro. IV. II. 16. 
Ramp. Leap; rear. IV. XXVIII. 

18. 
Randolph. Sir Thomas Kandolph, 

nephew of Bruce. VI. XX. 13. 
Ranger. A game-keeper. Intro. 

VI. III. 11. 
Rate. To berate; to censure vio- 
lently. IV. I. 17. 
Raven. The Xorse sea-rovers or 

pirates were accustomed to display 

a raven upon their banner. ITT. 

XXIV. 18. 
Red-cross hero. Sir Sidney Smith. 

See Note Intro. III. IV. I. 
Red De Clare or Red Earl Gilbert. 

Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloster. 

VI. IV. 29 and VI. X. 23. 
Red King. William II. called 

William Rufua. Intro. I. XVIII. 

6. 
Reeky. Smoky ; emitting vapor. 

Intro. V. V. 11. 
Reft. Bereft ; taken away; cut off. 

VI. XXIX. 15. 
Repine. Make a plaintive sound. 

IV. X. 10. 
Requiescat. "May he rest." Intro. 

I. X. 3. 
Rest. A projection from the right 

side of the cuirass serving to sup- 
port the butt of the lance or spear. 

IV. XX. 16. 
Retrograde. The backward (or 

apparently backward) movement 

of a planet. III. XX. 26. 
Rocquet, or rochet. A vestment re- 



sembling a surphce, worn by a 
bishop. VI. XI. 19. 

Roland. See Oliveb. VI. xy^TTT. 
10. 

Rome. The church of Rome. II. 
XXXI. 2. Also IV. VII. 10. 

Romish thunders. The curse of 
the church of Rome. III. XV. 14. 

Roncesvalles or Boncevaux. A 
pass in the Pyrenees mountains. 
French romance relates that 
when Charlemagne led his armies 
against the Moors in Spain his 
j rear guard was attacked in this 
pass, and many nobles of rank 
slain, among them Roland and 
Oliver. VI. XXXIII. 12. 

Rosalie, Saint. A young woman of 
noble family in Palermo who, hav- 
ing forsaken her home, is said to 
have lived in a cleft of a rock to 
which she was carried by angels. 
A chapel marks the spot in the 
mountain where her body was 
found. I. XXIII. 19. 

Round. Circuit ; the circle of a 
rampart. III. XXIII. 3. 

Roundelay. A song in which there 
is a frequent repetition of a par- 
ticular strain ; a round or catch. 
m. VIII. 16. 

Rowan. The mountain-ash. Intro. 
II. I. 15. 

Rule, Saint. " St. Regulus, a monk 
of Patrae, in Achaia, warned by a 
vision, is said, A.D. 370, to have 
sailed westward until he landed 
at St. Andrew's in Scotland,where 
he founded a chapel and tower. 
. . . As Begulus first colonized 
the metropolitan see of Scotland, 
and converted the inhabitants in 
the vicinity, he has some reason 
to complain that the ancient name 
of Killrule (Cella ReguU) should 
have been superseded, even in 
favor of the tutelar saint of Scot- 
land. The reason of the change 



GLOSSAEY 



351 



was that St. Rule is said to have 
brought to Scotland the relics of 
St. Andrew." Sir Walter Scott. I. 
XXIX. 9. 
Runnel. A small stream or rivu- 
let. VI. XXX. 13. 

Sackbut. A brass wind instrument 
probably resembling the trom- 
bone. IT. XXXI. 4. 

Sackcloth. Coarse cloth used for 
making sacks. Anciently, sack- 
cloth garments were worn in pen- 
ance for sin. IV. XVI. 10. 

Salem. Jerusalem. I. XXIII. 2. 

Salvo-shot. A salute from a 
number of pieces of artillery. I. 
IV. 8. 

Sands. Edwin Sandys, D.D., Bishop 
of Worcester and of London, and 
afterwards Archbishop of York. 
VI. XXXVIII. 22. 

Sangreal, or Holy Grail. The cup 
from which Christ is supposed to 
have drunk at the Last Supper. 
Intro. I. XV. 20. See Tennyson's 
The Holy Grail; also Lowell's The 
Vision of Sir Launfal. 

Sanguine. Red ; having the color 
of blood. IV. XXVIIL 4. 

Sans. Without ; lacking ; deprived 
of. I. XXI. 34. 

Saracen. In the Middle Ages, the 
common term among Christians 
in Europe for a Mohammedan 
warring against the Crusaders. 
VI. XVI. 21. 

Satyrane. • 'A Satyres sonne yborne 
in forest wild " who is described 
in the Faerie Queene as a knight 
of prowess. Intro. V. Til. 23. 

Say. Saying; speech. III. XVI. 4. 

Scald. A Norse poet or bard. In- 
tro. VI. 1. 17. 

Scallop-shell. The badge by which 
pilgrims who had been in the 
Holy Land were distinguished. I. 
XXVII. 12. 



Scaur, (skar). A steep bank or 

rock. V. XII. 41. 
Scrip. A small bag or wallet. I. 

XXVII. 16. 
Scrivelbayc. I. XI 8. See Mar- 

MION. 

Scottish Lion. The royal banner 
of Scotland. Intro. III. VII. 55. 

Scutcheon, or escutcheon. An 
emblazoned shield or coat of 
arms. I. XI. 2. 

Sea-dog. The common seal. II. 11. 
12. 

Seamew. Seagull. VI. XXVL 6. 

Selle. A saddle. III. XXXI. 10. 

Seneschal. The steward or chief 
domestic oflScer of a noble house. 
I. III. 16. 

Sewer. One whose duty was to 
serve guests at a feast. I. III. 16. 

Sexhelm. Bishop of Northumbria 
in the tenth century II. XVII. 
15. 

Simnel. Lambert Simnel was a 
pretender to the throne, who 
pressed his claims with arms in 
the reign of Henry VII. He was 
finally obliged to content himself 
with the position of scullion in 
the king's kitchen. V. XXI. 17. 

Siren. An enchantress; hence, an 
enticing, dangerous woman. V. 
XIII. 1. 

Sister profess'd. One professed or 
sworn a nun. II. XX. 18. 

Slogan. The war-cry of a gathering 
border clan. V. IV. 6. 

Soland. A kind of goose. III. 
III. 6. 

Southron. In Scotland, the general 
designation for any Englishman. 
Intro. III. VII. 56. Southron 
land. England. V. X. 15. 

Spell. A magic formula of words; 
an incantation, enchantment. 
III. XXII. 18. 

Spenser. Edmund Spenser, Eliza- 
bethan poet, 1552-1599. His chief 



352 



MARMION 



work was The Faerie Queene. See 
Intro. I. XVI. 3 and Intro. T. 
III. 2. 

Sprite. Spirit. YI. VIII. 4. 

Squire. An armor-bearer attend- 
ing a knight, and next below him 
in rank. I. III. 16. 

Squire of Dames. A knight re- 
nowned in story for devotion to 
ladies rather than feats of arms. 
He is the faithful lover of " faire 
Columbell" described in Spenser's 
Faerie Queene, Book III. Canto 

VII. Intro. V. III. 20. 

Stal worth. Stalwart; strong. I. 
V.5. 

Stanley (Sir Edward). Commander 
of the left wing of the English 
army at the battle of Flodden. 
He led the men of Lancashire and 
of the palatinate of Chester. VI. 
XXVII. 2. See Note VI. XXVI., 
XXVII. 

Stirrup-cup. A cup of wine, taken 
on horseback as a token of good- 
will at parting. I. XXXI. 8. 

Stokefleld. V. XXI. 19. See Mar- 
tin SWABT. 

Stole. An embroidered band which 
forms an important part of a 
priest's vestment. It is worn 
about the neck, the ends falling 
towards the feet in front. Intro. 
VI. II. 10. 

Stoop. In falconry, to alight and re- 
turn to the falconer's hand. VI. 
XIII. 10. 

Storied pane. Stained glass repre- 
senting deeds or scenes of life or 
history. Intro. V. VIII. 10. 

Stowre. Combat; conflict. IV. 
XXXII. 21. 

Strook. Past tense of strike. IV. 
XXI. 11. 

Style. (1) Title. II. XIX. 23. (2) 
Character. II. IX. 3. 

Sumpter-mule. A pack-mule. I. 

VIII. 4. 



Surrey. Henry Howard, Earl of 
Surrey, commander of the Eng- 
lish forces at the battle of Flod- 
den. I. XVIII. 13; VI. XX. 10. 
See Note VI. XXVI., XXVII. 

Swain. A country gallant or lover; 
a rustic fellow. III. XXIV. 28. 

Swart, Martin. "A German Gen- 
eral who commanded the auxil- 
iaries sent by the Duchess of 
Burgundy with Lambert Simnel. 
He was defeated and killed at 
Stokefleld. The name of this 
German general is preserved by 
that of the fleld of battle, which 
is called, after him, Swart-moor." 
Sir Walter Scott. V. XXI. 16. 

Sylphid. A little sylph or fairy. 
Intro. II. II. 39. 

Tabart, or tabard. A sort of coat 
with or without sleeves, orna- 
mented with the arms of his 
chief and worn by a herald or a 
pursuivant. I. XI. 1. 

Table Round. The Round Table 
of Arthurian romance. Intro. I. 
XVI. 6. 

Tables. The game of backgammon. 
I. XXII. 8. 

Talisman. A charm; an amulet; 
especially, a gem or stone in- 
scribed with mystic characters. 
Intro. I. XVII. 6. 

Tame. A small river of Yorkshire. 
V. XXII. 23. 

Tam worth. A town and castle in 
central England, on the ancient 
Watling Street. I. XI. 9. See 
Marmion. 

Tantallon (castle). 'The ruins of 
Tantallon Castle occupy a high 
rock projecting into the German 
Ocean, about two miles east of 
North Berwick. The building is 
not seen till a close approach, as 
there is rising ground betwixt it 
and the land. The circuit is of 



GLOSSARY 



353 



large extent, fenced upon three 
sides by the precipice which over- 
hangs the sea, and on the fourth 
by a double ditch and very strong 
outworks. Tantallon was a prin- 
cipal seat of the Douglas family." 
Sir Walter Scott. V. XXXIII. 
4; also, VI. II. 1. 

Targe. A shield or target. VI. 
XXVII. 5. 

Tarquin. Seventh and last king of 
Kome. Intro. I. XV. 17. 

Terouenne, A town in northern 
France, near Calais. VI. I. 8. 

Thessalian cave. At Thessalywas 
the seat of a celebrated oracle of 
Greece, the temple of Jupiter at 
Dodona. Intro. I. XI. 12. 

Thistle. The national flower and 
emblem of Scotland. IV. VII. 
20. 

Thomas, Saint, of Canterbury. 
Thomas a Becket. I. XXIV. 2. 
See Beckkt. 

Thracia's shore. The ancient 
country of Thrace. It occupied 
a part of the modern country of 
Turkey. Intro. VI. VI. 25. 

Thunder-dint. A thunder-clap. 
I. XXIII. 12. 

Till. A river of Northumberland, 
tributary to the Tweed. VI. 
XXI. 8. See Map. 

Tilmouth. A town on the coast of 
Northumberland. VI. XXXIII. 
26. 

Tlrante. Tlrante the White, hero 
and title of an old romance of 
chivalry. Intro. IV. VI. 17. 

Tocsin. An alarm. Intro. I. IX. 
12. 

Toledo right. Genuine Toledo. The 
) famous sword blades from Toledo, 
Spain, were exported to every 
country in Europe. V. VIII. 17. 

Tourney. A tournament or joust. 
V. VII. 10. 

Tmpp'd. Ornamented. I. VI. 15. 



Tressnre. An ornamented border. 

IV. VII. 18. 

Trews. Trousers ; especially those 
worn by the Scottish Highlanders. 

V. V. 6. 

Trine. Said of planets distant from 
each other 120 degrees, or one- 
third of the circle of the zodiac. 
III. XX. 26. 

Trow. Believe or trust. I. XIX. I. 

Trowl, or troll. Send about or 
circulate, as a vessel in drink- 
ing. Intro. VI. III. 16. 

Truncheon. A short staff, or the 
shaft of a spear. IV. VI. 12. See 
Mace. 

Tunstall. "Sir Brian Tunstall, 
called in the romantic language 
of the time, Tunstall the Unde- 
filed, was one of the few English- 
men of rank slain at Flodden. 
Tunstall, perhaps, derived his 
epithet of undeflled from his white 
armor and banner, the latter bear- 
ing a white cock about to crow, as 
well as from his unstained loyalty 
and knightly faith. His place of 
residence was Thurland Castle." 
Sir Walter Scott. VI. XXIV. 8: 
also, VI. XXVI. 19; also, VI. 
XXIX. 13. 

Twisel glen. The place where 
James IV. mustered his forces 
before the battle of Flodden. VI. 
IX. 16. Twisel Bridge. VI. 
XIX. 5. 

Umber* d. Smoky; dark. Um- 
ber' d lower. Dark or threaten- 
ing aspect. Intro. V. II. 26. 

Unicorn. A fabulous animal with 
one horn, often represented in 
heraldry as a supporter. IV. VII. 
21. 

Unspar. Unbar. I. IV. 14. 

Vail. Lower or droop. III. XIV. 
17. 



354 



MARMION 



Valentine, Saint. A bishop and 
martyr of Kome, A. D. 270. His 
feast is celebrated on the 14th of 
February, usually by the sending 
of love-tokens, from the supersti- 
tion that on this day the birds 
choose their mates. III. VIII. 7. 

Vantage-coign. A point of advan- 
tage; a commanding angle. VI. 
II. 22. 

Varlet. A servant; especially one 
performing menial service to a 
knight. VI. XXIX. 21. 

Vassal. A feudal tenant; a retain- 
er. III. XXI. 14. 

Vaward. In the van or front. VI. 
XXIV. 7. 

Vennachar, lioch. A small lake 
in the county of Perth. III. 
XVIII. 4. 

Vesper, or vespertide. Evening; 
eventide. Vespers. The evening 
service of the Church. II. 
XXXIII. 10. 

Vestal. Anciently, pertaining to 
the goddess Vesta, or to virgins 
consecrated to her service ; hence, 
a virgin. Vestal vow. The re- 
nunciatory vow of a nun. II. V. 
10. 

Vision' d. Produced by the fancy or 
imagination. II. XXII. 10. 

Visor. The part of a helmet which 
may be lifted to show the face. 
IV. XXI. 18. 

Wain. A wagon or cart. Intro. V. 
1.26. 

Wallace. One of Scotland's greatest 
heroes. He was renowned for 
courage and prowess in the strug- 
gles with England in the 13th 
century. VI. XX. 14. 

Wan. Won; gained. III. 1. 16. 

Wand. A staff of authority. VI. 
XX. 12. 

Wansbeck flood. A river of Nor- 
thumberland. II. VIII. 9. 



Warbeck. "The story of PerMn 
Warbeck, or Bichard, Duke of 
York, is well known. In 1496 he 
was received honorably in Scot- 
land; and James IV., after con- 
ferring upon him in marriage his 
own relation, the Lady Catherine 
Gordon, made war on England in 
behalf of his pretentions. To re- 
taliate an invasion of England, 
Surry advanced into Berwickshire 
at the head of considerable forces, 
but retreated after taking the in- 
considerable fortress of Ayton." 
Sir Walter Scott. I. XVIII. 11. 

Ward (1) A defence or means of 
defence. V. VI. 4; also VI. V. 8. 
(2) Defend or guard. IV. XXXII. 
12. 

Warden. A keeper or guardian. 
In Border lore, the holder of a 
small frontier castle. V. XIII. 
22. 

Wark worth. A castle on the coast 
of Northumberland. It was one 
of the strongholds of the Percy 
family. II. VIII. 16. 

Wassail, or wassel. A festive oc- 
casion; a carouse. Intro. VI. III. 
15. Wassel-rout. Festivity, mer- 
ry-making. Wassel-bowl. The 
vessel used for holding the liquor 
for a wassail. I. XV. 3. 

Wear. A river in Durham county. 
II. XIV. 26. 

Weeds. Garments. VI. VI. 24. 

Steely weeds. Armor. Intro. I. 
XV. 8. 

Ween. Believe; think. Intro. II. 
V.2. 

Wend. Go. V. XXIX. 27. 

What time. At the time when. I. 
XVIII. 14. 

Whilere. Becently; just now. 
Intro. V. VI. 3. 

Whilom. Formerly; once. Intro. 
V. III. 14. 

Whin. A thorny, evergreen shrub; 



GLOSSARY 



355 



also called furze or gorse. TV. 

XXIV. 2. 
Whitby. The Benedictine Abbey of 

Whitby, situated on the coast of 

Northumberland. II. XIII. 1. 
Wight. Valiant. Intro. II. III. 12. 
Wimple. Folds of linen or silk, 

formerly worn by women as a 

protection for the neck and chin. 

V. XI. 14. 
Wizard. One versed in magic ; a 

necromancer. III. XXII. 25. 
Wold. An open tract of hilly land; 

a down. IV. XIX. 9. 
Wolsey. Cardinal Wolsey, the chief 

adviser of Henry VIII. VI. 

XXXVIII. 21. 
Worde. Wynken de Worde. IV. 

IV. 24. See Caxton. 

Tare. Ready. I. IX. 8. 
Yarrow. A river of Selkirkshire, 
Scotland. On its banks are the 



ruins of the famous castle of 
Newark, and Bowhill, the family 
seat of the Dukes of Buccleuch. 
Intro. II. II. 3. 

Ycleped. Called; named. Intro. 
IV. VI. 17. 

Yeoman. In England, a freeborn 
citizen of the first or highest class 
among the common people : next 
in order to the gentry. I. VIII. 
13. 

Yode. Went. III. XXXI. 8. 

York, conciuering. The House 
of York, whose ascendency was 
established by the crowning of 
aiward IV., 1461, " after the fatal 
battle of Teuton.^' Intro. V. IV. 
29. 

Ytene. Ancient name for the New 
Forest in Hampshire. Intro. I. 
XVIII. 3. See Boldrewood. 

Zone. A girdle. III. XX. 23. 



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